


Bucket List

by cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Bottom Dean, Bottom!Cas, Boys Kissing, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Realizes His Feelings For Castiel, Dean-Centric, Dom!Cas, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Introspection, Kissing, Light Bondage, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Slow Build, Smut, Sub!Dean, Top Castiel, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, dean's existential crisis, mention of bobby - Freeform, real job, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:19:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy/pseuds/cheeseburgersmakemeveryhappy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time Dean remembered who he is now that the Mark is gone. He wants to try new things, do something different, and realizes he doesn’t want to do it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a slow build up to smut my friends. I'm thinking an angst - fluff - smut progression. I hope you find it worth the wait (Dean will *wink*)

Dean hadn’t smiled in a year. Exactly 365 days. He had smirked, he had grinned malevolently, but he hadn’t actually found joy in anything for 12 entire months. He wondered if he even knew how anymore.

He had lost so much of himself that it was surprising he remembered his own damn name. What actually brought Dean Winchester joy? He could remember desire and he could remember pride, but actual joy?

He should think about it. He should really concentrate and try to find that. He needed it back.

\----------------------------------------

“Background singer for Taylor Swift,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Soccer mom secretly a ninja.”

“Stock broker with a foot fetish.”

“Dean!” Sam said in frustration. “What the hell?”

It was a warm Minnesota day and the brothers sat in the front seat of the Impala waiting for their mystery man to emerge from the bungalow across the street. Sunlight poured into the car. Even with the windows down the temperature inside had climbed to 87 degrees. Dean stretched away from the leather seats to get air on his back. It was going on hour seven; the soda bottles were empty and one lonely taco remained on the dashboard. The smell of greasy chips and seasoned beef had just tipped from appetizing to stale.

Dean was beyond bored so he dealt with it by playing Who Are You, a little game he made up a good 15 years ago. Back then when Dean admired cars, he would automatically check out the make and model, the newness or classic condition, the color and the speed. Only ever so often did he look at the face of the person behind the wheel and consider what he does for a living, where she might be heading, what he might be thinking. Once he realized that there was more to the car than the car – there was the driver to consider – Dean started making up quick backstories as strangers drove by. The key was finding their eyes. There was something about looking at people’s eyes that kind of unlocked their mystery.

For years Dean kept this little game to himself, but for some reason right now he was playing Who Are You out loud. That was cause for alarm as far as he was concerned. Had he started forgetting himself? But he ignored that fact and instead looked at Sam and said “Cross dresser with a run in his stocking.”

Sam took a deep breath, stared at his brother and thought, _today might be the day I actually punch you in the face._ He was trying to be patient, give Dean some space since he noticed his overall melancholy two weeks ago. Being the more evolved human in the car, he decided to forego actual violence. Instead he counted to ten, did some mental yoga and looked back out the window.

“High school teacher running a brothel in her basement.”

“DEAN!”

\------------------------------------

Dean woke with a start, yanking his head up from its comfortable perch on the leather chair and inadvertently dumping the two-hundred-year-old book in his lap on the ground. He blinked, willing his pulse to slow down to a non-coronary-inducing rhythm. Across the table, Sam gave him a look of mild curiosity. “You okay?” he asked.

Dean nodded in his brother’s general direction and picked the book up off the floor. He set it on the table in front of him and tried to remember the dream he really should have instead tried to forget. He was in the Impala. He was on a stakeout by himself in the Impala, when _his_ Impala came around the corner. And as Dean looked at the driver, who was _himself_ , he tried to think about what that guy was thinking, what he did for a living, where he was going. Then the other Dean turned to face him, except he had no face. It was as if someone had taken an eraser and smudged out _that_ Dean’s features. All Dean could think as his faceless twin drove away was _who are you?_

“I’m getting something to drink,” he wearily called over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen.

“I’d love a beer, Dean, thanks for asking,” Sam muttered to himself, shaking his head and returning to the text in front of him.

Without thinking, however, Dean’s feet walked into his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the memory foam mattress and stared at the wall. He felt tightness in his chest and his head started pounding. He stood, not sure why, and let his feet take him to the bathroom, where he splashed cool water on his face. He spent five minutes touching his nose and jaw as he looked in the mirror.

_Who are you?_

\------------------------------------------

“You there, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean looked up to see a tall blond waitress eyeing him expectantly. She was very young, probably 18 or 19 at the most, and visibly uncomfortable. A strand of wavy blond hair had fallen in front of her face and she angrily tucked it behind her left ear. Defiantly, the blond lock broke free and covered her eye. Dean wondered if the hair won this fight more often than the girl did.

He looked at the table in front of him and realized his menu was upside down. Sighing, Dean asked, “You have a cheeseburger, right?”

“Yeah, but we don’t start serving lunch for another two hours,” she replied, looking at Sam with an expression that clearly said _does this guy know what time it is?_

Cas looked from Dean to Sam and back again. “I would like a cheeseburger as well,” he said to the waitress, handing her his menu.

Sam squinted at Cas, who raised his eyebrows at the younger Winchester. “Make it three,” Sam said through clenched teeth.

The waitress stared at the table. “Of course,” she said, forcing a smile and walking away. She was shaking her head, blond strands swaying behind her.

“You seem fairly distracted, Dean,” Cas commented.

Dean tried a smile. It looked more like a grimace. “Yeah, Cas, I think that’s a pretty accurate assessment.” He turned to look out the diner window and hoped he wouldn’t see a familiar black muscle car rounding the corner. He faced his brother and best friend. “I might be having an existential crisis,” he said softly.

Sam’s eyebrows flew up his face, then threatened to sprout wings and actually head south for the winter. “You’re having a what?” he demanded incredulously.

“An existential crisis, man. Jesus, Sam, do you need me to spell it out for you? I don’t know who I am any more. Now that killing crap isn’t a burning, primal need, I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no idea what makes me happy, _truly happy_ , Sam.” Dean looked at Cas imploringly. The angel returned his gaze with one of concern and compassion. “Cas, why am I here? Why are any of us here?”

“Love,” Cas replied.

Dean and Sam both looked at Cas with interest, a feat Dean hadn’t been able to achieve in the last 14 days. He realized he was holding his breath.

“You are asking me about the meaning of life, correct?” Cas asked, looking at both Winchesters.

“Well, yeah,” Dean said, glancing over at Sam. Was it this easy? Just ask an angel what the meaning of life was and he tells you the biggest secret in the universe?

“The answer is love,” Cas repeated. “Every human is put on this earth to give and receive love. Not necessarily romantic love, but to learn to love themselves and to love one another. That was my Father’s plan.”

“Love?” Dean pressed, unable to hide the skepticism in his voice.

“Dean, true fulfillment starts from within. When humans love themselves, they become most capable to love others. When you love others, you begin to change the world.”

 _Love_ , Dean thought. Why would Cas lie? He wouldn’t. So if that’s the truth, the God’s-honest Meaning of Life, Dean needed to work with this information. _True fulfillment starts from within_. Well that was the kicker, wasn’t it? Dean was at a complete and utter loss concerning what actually gave him fulfillment, let alone joy. So he decided that he needed to spend some quality time addressing this issue.

He took a gulp of lukewarm coffee and realized that he couldn’t do it while chopping off a vampire’s head or ganking witches. And that’s when it hit him. He didn’t even realize he was smiling until he saw Cas’ toothy grin mirrored back at him. “Sam, I think I’m going to retire.”


	2. Fishing

“Retire?” Sam asked for the seventh time, this one while standing in the bunker’s kitchen. He watched Dean layer turkey, lettuce and cheddar cheese between two slices of white bread that had already been lovingly wiped down in Miracle Whip. “Dean, you tried this before and didn’t like it, remember?”

Dean took a substantial bite from his sandwich and considered. “I don’t think that was retirement, Sam,” he countered, sucking some food from his front teeth. He wagged his pointer finger at his brother and said, “That was me honoring your dying wish.” He picked up the plate and a glass of water and headed back up to the war room where Cas sat patiently waiting for them.

“In fact, and don’t take this the wrong way Sam, but that was me spending a year mourning the death of my brother. That was me trying to remember to breathe, not me trying to figure out who I am. ‘Cause honestly Sam, if what the angel here says is true,” Dean nodded in Cas’ direction, and Cas kindly nodded back, “then ‘true fulfillment starts from within.’ I can’t figure out what fulfills me if I’m killing monsters. You gotta see that, right?”

“Yeah, Dean, I see it,” Sam conceded. “I guess I’m just surprised you do too. I mean I’m shocked that you’re so committed to figuring yourself out. Seems kind of New Age-y for you, dude.”

Dean grinned at his brother around another bite. Now that he had actually smiled, he was kind of on a roll. “I know, right?! Look at me, I’m self-aware! Seriously, man, now that I don’t have that thing on my arm, it’s like I’m human again only I’ve forgotten how to be. Sam, 40’s around the fucking corner and there are things I have always wanted to do and I haven’t because the world is always coming to an end. Usually because of me.” He drank some water and looked at Cas. “There’s so much I don’t know that I want to figure out. I want to stretch.”

Cas offered Dean a fairly sizeable smile. “I admire your intentions, Dean,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

“Cas I…” Dean felt his smile start to droop at the edges. Suddenly he was at a loss.

“Perhaps you should consider how you wish to spend this retirement,” Cas said kindly. “You could make a list of all the things…”

“Yes! Cas, that is an excellent idea! I will make a Retirement Bucket List,” Dean announced to the room. This was going to be a piece of cake.

\-------------------------------------------------

Cake and chocolate ice cream sat melting and untouched in the bowl to Dean’s left as he pondered the blank piece of paper in front of him. Actually, it wasn’t completely blank; he had written “Dean’s Retirement Bucket List” across the top, so that had to count for something.

 _Let’s start easy_ , he thought.

**1\. Go fishing**

Okay, so not earth-shattering, but dammit, he really wanted to spend a day catching trout in the middle of a pristine lake. _Definitely #1_.

**2\. Read some classics**

Yeah, Vonnegut was awesome and so were Salinger and Bellows. There were more, though. Herman Melville, Faulkner, Hemingway. He was an American. He should know great American stories. Sam could help him put together a list and then he would read one a month.

**3\. Movie marathons on Netflix**

Dean couldn’t wait to see all digitally remastered Star Wars movies non-stop, in a row. And _yes_ , he would watch the new ones as well. And what the hell was _Breaking Bad_ , anyway? Peter Capaldi was the Doctor now, right? He hadn’t seen a _Doctor Who_ episode since the 2008 Christmas special. Screw the _Walking Dead_. Like they know about real zombies.

 _Stretch, dammit_ , he told himself. Okay, so he knew how to rebuild cars. What about… Dean smiled to himself as he wrote the next item.

**4\. Build a boat**

Like a canoe. With his own two hands. He didn’t have a lot of experience with woodworking. This would be a good one.

**5\. Homebrew beer**

That would be something, drinking his own brew. He could learn to make lagers, pale ales, and pilsners. Maybe even save some dough.

**6\. Get a friggin job**

Seriously, it was about time he figured out an honest way to make a living instead of taking advantage of poor shmucks who couldn’t manage their credit cards. He’d have to work on that one. Mechanic? Sure. Handyman? Okay. He had worked construction once upon a time. Did he want to stretch on this or do something he already felt confident doing? What did he really _want_ to do? This one will take more thought.

**7\. Learn how to bake an apple pie**

Forget relying on diners and convenience stores. He would learn how to make his own damn pies. Once he mastered apple, maybe he would tackle pumpkin. _Bite me,_ _Martha Stewart_ , he thought.

**8\. Take a class online**

Not get a degree. There’s no way he could get a degree. But Sam had showed him that there were tons of free college courses anyone could take online. Maybe something on Roman emperors or how to speak Spanish.

He had finished his list last night, at least for the time being, and had given it to Cas to see what he thought. “Spanish would come in very handy, Dean,” Cas said approvingly as he read the paper in his hands. “Since I speak all languages, I would be happy to help you. In fact, Dean, I would be happy to participate in any way as you undertake this journey.”

“Thanks, man,” he said, smiling at Cas’ genuinely open and supportive face. “I’ll take you up on it.”

“Is there anything you need to get started?”

Dean considered as he took a swig from the bottle of Miller High Life in his hand. He stood and clapped a hand against Cas’ shoulder as he walked behind him. “I’m thinking worms.”

\-------------------------------------------

“Worms are a natural food source for rainbow trout, Dean. Why would we fish with cheese?” Cas asked. The two were sharing a rented canoe on Lake Shawnee in Topeka after a three and a half hour drive up from Lebanon. White, wispy clouds were few and far between in the Kansas sky and a very slight breeze kept them from getting too warm as they sat anchored about 100 yards from shore. The lake was a thing of beauty; clear and blue with just the slightest of chop. The lapping of water against the canoe soothed Dean’s spirit.

“We’re going to start with cheese first, Cas,” Dean explained. “If they don’t bite on the cheese, we’ll move on to the worms. I don’t have a lot of them, man. Plus the cheese was on sale.” Dean looked across the canoe and smiled. _At least I got him out of that damn coat_ , he thought, chuckling at Cas fishing in his suit and tie. The angel had set his fishing pole beside him and was trying to figure out how to get aged cheddar to stay on his hook.

“Warm it in your hand a little bit, Cas. Knead it two or three times between your fingers until you get it into a bit of a ball, and then push the hook through. Like this.” Dean demonstrated by breaking off a small piece and rolling it in the palm of his other hand until he felt it warm slightly and become supple. Then he eased his single hook into the ball of cheddar and kneaded it until it was hidden from sight.

Cas did as instructed, looking at Dean skeptically. “It smells, Dean.”

“Geez, dude, that’s the point,” Dean sighed. “Cas, lighten up. Once we get hooks in the water, the real fun can start.”

Cas nodded and mimicked Dean’s cheese-warming technique. He didn’t want to be negative; this was the first item on Dean’s bucket list and he felt honored that Dean had invited him. This was to be a soothing experience, one that took Dean back to his childhood. He held the cheese-laden hook up for inspection.

“Perfect. Now when you cast your line, don’t be flinging it hard or you’ll send that bait flying. Gentle flick of the wrist. Watch.” Dean sat up straight on the canoe bench and eyed the bright red bobber as he moved it beside him, minding the baited hook. He pressed and held the release button on the reel and twisted about a quarter turn in his seat. In one smooth move he raised his arm at the elbow and slightly elevated the rod then brought it forward with a gentle yet firm flick of his wrist, sending the bobber and bait roughly 20 feet in front of him. It settled with a plop, red bobber bouncing lightly.

He looked expectantly at Cas, who nodded again then effortlessly cast his line into the water. Cas’ bobber bounced lightly on the surface about five feet to the right of Dean’s. “You little shit,” Dean laughed. Cas smiled broadly and set the pole beside him, stretching out his legs. Dean reclined, extended his legs opposite of Cas’ and closed his eyes. “Just for that, you get first shift.”

Three hours later Cas had shed his jacket and tie. His sleeves were rolled up and his eyes were half closed against the late-afternoon sun. Cas had caught three fish to Dean’s one, so Dean had snapped a picture and sent it to Sam – “Cas, the trout slayer.” Dean peeked at Cas across the canoe. He seemed completely at peace, fingers interlocked and resting against his stomach. Dean wondered if angels got sunburned.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Dean,” Cas asked lazily.

Dean felt his face flush and wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “Uh, sure Cas. Are you?”

“I find fishing to be quite relaxing,” Cas replied. “It provides plenty of opportunity for introspection.”

“Hmm,” Dean replied.

“Have any epiphanies today?” Cas asked.

“Angels don’t sunburn,” Dean responded.

Cas allowed himself a chuckle. “Winchesters do,” he said. “You’re going to need some aloe later.”

“Got some in the car,” Dean countered. “Let’s give it another hour and then we’ll pack up and head to the campground.”

Dean grilled the four trout on a little red BBQ he had packed in the back seat. After cleaning up, he and Cas sat in lawn chairs, drinking beer (Dean) and eating s’mores (Cas). "This is amazing, Dean,” Cas murmured around a mouthful of graham cracker, melted chocolate and marshmallows. “Explain the name. I don’t understand.”

“They’re called s’mores because they’re so good, you say ‘can I have s’more?’ Get it?”

“Yes. Dean, did today make you happy?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, Cas. How about you?”

“Today was very pleasant. And what about your existential crisis?”

Dean smiled into his beer. “I have decided that I am a reasonable fisherman.”

“The complicated mosaic that is Dean Winchester starts to take shape,” Cas deadpanned.

“Shut up, man,” he laughed.

“Take a bite of this Dean. It is quite delicious.” Cas sat up and held a small piece of his dessert out in front of Dean’s face. Dean went to take it and Cas merely shook his head. “Open.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What?” he half-laughed.

“Open, Dean,” Cas said all trace of humor gone from his face.

And because it was Cas, Dean complied. He felt a little foolish, a little uncomfortable, but he watched as Cas put a small piece of graham cracker and chocolate in his mouth. Cas held his gaze and arched one eyebrow about three centimeters. “Do you agree, Dean?”

Dean just nodded.

“Would you like more?” Cas asked.

Dean nodded, smirking, “You gonna…”

“Open,” Cas commanded and Dean paused, swallowed, and then opened his mouth again. Cas placed another bite inside. A thin string of melted marshmallow created a white line on Dean’s bottom lip; he could feel it as he chewed. Dean watched Cas’ eyes latch onto it. Castiel slowly raised his hand, thumb aimed to remove the offending sugar, and Dean gently caught his wrist.

“I’ve got it, Cas,” he said quietly.

Cas nodded and looked at Dean’s hand. Dean released him and Cas rose. “Will you be sleeping in the car this evening?” he asked.

The air seemed heavier and it took more effort to respond. Dean nodded.

“Will you be fishing tomorrow as well?”

Dean nodded again, and then struggled to form coherent words. “Probably head back around 4:00.”

“I will bring coffee in the morning,” Cas announced.

“Yea, okay,” Dean said, watching Cas fold the trench coat over his arm.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas said, then disappeared in a slight breeze. Dean felt a shiver roll down his spine and wondered if the two were connected.

\----------------------------------------

Connected via a charger cable to the Impala’s lighter socket, Dean’s cell phone quietly filled the car with music from his favorite playlist. Right now it was Bad Company’s _Ready for Love_ , which made Dean slightly uncomfortable as he lay across the front seat and stared at the upholstered headliner above him.

He basically had two options:

  1.        Assume that Cas had no idea that his actions could have been interpreted as sexual (a.k.a. hot as hell) or
  2.        Assume that Cas knew exactly what he was doing.



If he started with Option 1, then Dean needed to figure out why he found Cas’ voice, behavior, and stare as hot as he did tonight. Certainly, seven or so years of combat situations, apocalyptic scenarios and beating the crap out of each other on a regular basis had forged a friendship unlike any other Dean had ever had. In retrospect, that would constitute some really screwed up foreplay.

Cas was important to him. He needed Cas in his life and had told him so repeatedly.

Cas probably didn’t realize that his deep and commanding voice would go straight to Dean’s dick. Shit, Dean didn’t realize it and he heard that damn voice all the friggin time. But Cas’ eyes staring at his mouth with more intensity than a piece of chocolate deserved didn’t help at all. He exhaled around the idea of letting Cas touch his lip and wipe that marshmallow off.

So should he say something? Should he let Cas know that sometimes his actions and his words and his deep blue eyes seem laced with heat? What if that’s only how Dean was interpreting him? In light of that, Option 2 was even more unsettling. Or exciting. What if Cas was actually opening a door; making a first move? Dean felt a little tingle across his skin. He had the sinking suspicion that his feelings towards Cas were changing.

Billy Squire’s _Stroke Me_ started playing and Dean reached over and turned off the player. He rolled onto his side and fell asleep, that one word echoing in his mind.

_“Open.”_


	3. The Classics

“Open up, already,” Dean muttered under his breath. He stood in front of the Lebanon City Library at 8:57 am Tuesday morning, waiting for someone to unlock the doors. Dean wasn't alone. Two young men stood holding hands in front of him, backpacks slung over their shoulders. _Probably go to the college,_ he figured. One had dark hair that spiked in every direction like he had just rolled out of bed. As the guy turned, Dean froze, watching him close light blue eyes as he brushed his lips against his partner's temple. Three minutes later a tall, redheaded man in his 40s strode through the foyer and opened the doors, smiling in recognition at the pair and nodding to Dean.

Despite living in the area for years, this was Dean’s first trip here. He noticed walls of books, stand-alone magazine racks, comfortable chairs arranged around small tables, and the de-facto coffee cart. Dean made his way to a computer and started searching for the first books on Sam’s suggested reading list, which he had already unfolded and placed on the table.

Sam was so excited about putting the list together yesterday. Dean made pancakes in the kitchen as Sam rattled off ten titles he felt had to be included, and then he added the ones Dean mentioned. Next there were the internet searches. After an hour, the first list included 30 books. Dean shook his head at his brother and said, “How about a dozen, Sam.” They compromised at 15.

  1. _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_ and _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_ by Mark Twain



                      “They’re short, Dean,” Sam had assured him.

     2. _To Kill a Mockingbird_ by Harper Lee

     3. _East of Eden_ by John Steinbeck

     4. _Moby Dick; or The Whale_ by Herman Melville

     5. _The Great Gatsby_ by F. Scott Fitzgerald

     6. _The Old Man and the Sea_ by Earnest Hemingway

     7. _The Call of the Wild_ by Jack London

     8. _Death of a Salesman_ by Arthur Miller

     9. _Little Women_ by Louisa May Alcott

                      “It’s a classic, man,” Sam sighed in frustration.

     10. _Fahrenheit 451_ by Ray Bradbury

     11. _The Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe_

     12. _Catch-22_ by Joseph Heller

     13. _A Streetcar Named Desire_ by Tennessee Williams

     14. _The Good Earth_ by Pearl S. Buck

     15. _Gone With the Wind_ by Margaret Mitchell

As he scrolled through the online catalog, Dean found a compilation called _Mark Twain: Mississippi Writings_ that included both of the books on his list and two others. Jotting down the number, he found his way over to the fiction section and quickly located the text, sliding it from its place on the shelf and flipping it open. This version hid 1,126 pages in barely over an inch. He looked up and noticed another copy so he grabbed them both and headed to a check-out counter.

Driving back, Dean pointed the Impala towards a sandwich shop and picked up a few subs. He glanced at the two books riding shotgun and felt a little surge of excitement. _This was getting somewhere_ , he grinned. _I am now improving_. It was kind of spur-of-the-moment, but he hoped that Cas would enjoy reading along with him.

When he returned to the bunker, Sam was nose-deep in lore on ancient Celtic rituals. Dean tossed two 12-inch subs and a bag of chips on the table in front of his brother, who looked up in surprise. “Thanks, Dean!” he grinned. “What did you bring me?”

“Every vegetable they had on whole grain with turkey and Sriracha sauce,” Dean answered.

“Dude, thanks!” Sam said, opening the Sun Chips and popping one in his mouth. “What books did you pick up?”

“Twain,” Dean replied.

“Ah,” Sam nodded approvingly. “What else?” he asked, tilting his head towards the second book.

“The library had two copies and I thought since you’d already read it, that I would see if Cas wanted to play Book Club,” Dean said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he made his way to the kitchen for a drink. He returned with two beers, setting one down in front of his brother. Dean unrolled his meatball sub.

“Cas, if you’re not too busy, or when you get a chance, uh, swing by the bunker. I brought you a book to read,” Dean said to his beer. It didn’t take long.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas smiled, clasping Dean’s shoulder just as Dean had done to him a few days earlier. Dean looked up at him and grinned. Sam pretended not to notice.

“Hey Cas. I, uh, was wondering if you’d like to join me in examining great American literature.”

Cas pulled up a chair and picked up one of the hardback books in front of Dean. “I would enjoy that very much, Dean. What are we starting with?”

_"The Adventures of Tom Sawyer."_

Cas’ grin widened. “Samuel Clemens, a.k.a. Mark Twain. An excellent choice.”

“You can thank or curse at Sam. He put this list together.”

“Not entirely true, Cas,” Sam piped up. “Just fleshed it out around the edges. Ask him about _Little Women_.”

“I understand that is an extremely good story, Dean,” Cas said earnestly.

“What is it about _Little Women_ and you two?”

\---------------------------------------------

Two hours later Dean had his feet up on the table and _Tom Sawyer_ open in front of him. “Check this out, Cas,” he said. “’He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it – namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain.’”

“Nice, Dean,” Cas agreed. The angel sat across from him, mimicking his posture with his feet on the same table. He had never read contemporary works, let alone American literature; however he could absorb the written word much faster than any human could. So to even the playing field, he decided to read each and every word in the book. “I liked this on the same page: ‘Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.’ When you enjoy something, it’s never really work, is it?”

The two men smiled at each other and Dean couldn’t help but think back to that night at the lake shore. He hadn’t talked to Cas about it. In fact, he had specifically kept his thoughts to himself so he could spend more time figuring out whether he was imagining things. Without breaking his gaze, Cas tapped the bottom of Dean’s boot with his own dress shoe. Dean felt the vibration travel straight up his leg, which made him slightly self-conscious considering he had just been vividly remembering Cas’ eyes on his lips. He arched his brow in response.

“Not to change the subject, Dean,” Cas said with his usual intensity, “but I have been wondering about your desire to gain employment.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked.

“Have you given it more thought?” Cas inquired.

“No, not really. Why? Got any ideas?”

“Actually,” Cas said, setting his book down and removing his feet from the table, “I have a question.” He leaned forward.

“Shoot,” Dean replied.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?”

Dean chuckled and set his book aside as well.

“Dean, if you are attempting to think big, to stretch, I would encourage you to consider what you wanted to be when you were a child and you could be anything you could imagine. This would just be an exercise, as it’s obvious that you would never pass the physical for astronaut training with your liver in its current condition.”

“Jerk,” Dean laughed. “I can still be an astronaut if I want to. That’s what video games are for. But to answer your question, I wanted to be a cowboy and a soldier.” Dean smiled at the memory of him and Sammy playing with little green plastic men in the Impala. “And then I wanted to be a race car driver. I never had delusions of being a doctor or a lawyer. I always had a job, Cas, since I was a kid.”

“But that wasn’t what you wanted to be, Dean,” Cas prodded.

“True,” he agreed. “I think some part of me always thought I would take over Bobby’s place, but at this point I’m not interested in turning wrenches full time.”

“I learned a good deal about humanity working as an attendant at the Gas-N-Sip,” Cas volunteered.

“No offense, Cas, but I don’t think I’d want to spend my days working in a convenience store. Actually,” Dean confided, dropping his legs and leaning in towards Cas, “I’d like to find a way to work for myself, not anyone else.”

“A small business owner,” Cas nodded approvingly. “I can certainly see you as an entrepreneur, Dean.”

Dean’s face lit up. “Yeah, I just gotta figure out what business to go into.”

“Perhaps another list is in order,” Cas suggested. He reached across the table and calmly placed his hand on top of Dean’s then rubbed it lightly with his thumb, all the while smiling right at him.

Dean blinked and tried to remember to breathe. _That is definitely opening a door_ , he thought. He didn’t move his hand, didn’t look away, merely said, “Cas?” Then he smiled, because when Cas smiled at him, it was the only thing he wanted to do.

Castiel gave Dean’s hand a slight squeeze then stood. He picked up his library book and pointed it at Dean. “I promise to finish reading _Tom Sawyer_ by the next time we meet, Dean. Then we can have a Book Club and invite Sam.”

“Okay,” Dean said, chuckling and slightly shaking his head. _He’s going to flirt with me, honestly flirt with me, and then pretend he didn’t? To my face?_ Dean thought. And then for some reason it was quite cute and non-threatening, and decidedly Option #2. _Holy shit_.

\----------------------------------------------

“Shit, Dean! I mean it’s been pretty obvious to me that there was something, maybe, there, but he actually flirted with you? You’re sure?” A bigger smile couldn’t have fit on Sam’s face. FINALLY! his brain screamed.

“Dude, he caressed the top of my hand with his thumb and smiled at me. And then he just stood up and talked about reading that damn book like ‘no big deal’ and left,” Dean said, remembering the little squeeze. “And, I know I sound like a freakin' girl right now, but when we were fishing he did this thing where he like _ordered_ me to open my mouth and he fed me a s’more. It was hot as hell,” Dean groaned.

“Dean! Are you…thinking about it?”

“Of _course_ I’m thinking about it. It’s Cas! I mean I know I’ve never… and I’ve always, you know, with the ladies, but…” Dean just started laughing and shaking his head. “I feel like I’m crushing on my BFF.” Then in a sing-song voice he said “Oh my god, Becky! He’s just so dreamy!”

Both brothers laughed loudly and Dean took another swig of his beer. They were sitting on the hood of the Impala under a dark blue sky that was just turning black. The stars seemed to be waiting impatiently in the wings, willing the earth to turn just a little more on its axis so they could burst out and take center stage. He could feel that anticipation, the knowledge that something beautiful and amazing was about to happen.

“So, um, not to pry too much ‘cause I can’t believe we’re actually talking about this at all, so thanks dude,” Sam stammered, “but are you interested in other guys too?”

“No, Sam,” Dean said quietly. “It’s only Cas.”

They sat in silence for several minutes.

“No offense, but he probably got tired of waiting. I figured if anything ever happened, you would be making the first move,” Sam admitted.

Dean looked at his brother incredulously. “Why the hell would you be thinking about any of this? This isn’t even a thing! It just happened to me!”

“Dean,” Sam said, shaking his head. “He looks at you with big puppy dog eyes. He is constantly, continually worried about you. Shit, he spent most of the past year just repeating ‘We have to find Dean.’ It was almost comical! He has risked himself and saved your ass over and over again. He’s done almost everything you have ever asked him to do. I mean doesn’t this add up to anything in your brain other than ‘great friend?’ A ‘great friend’ helps you _move_ , Dean, he doesn’t throw Molotov cocktails at his own brother in the face of Armageddon.”

Sam watched the wheels turn in his brother’s head. He leaned a little forward and said, “Dean, you _pray_ to him.”

Dean’s eyes widened and he whispered, “Shit.”

Sam smiled and tipped back his beer. “I don’t think that’s the four-letter word you’re looking for.”

\----------------------------------------------

For ten minutes Dean looked at the piece of paper in front of him. Then he took a deep breath and wrote:

**9\. Ask Cas out on a date**


	4. Sweet

_Date night. Ask Cas out on a date. Take him out for dinner? Where would we go? He really doesn’t need to eat. Maybe go to a movie or something? Or watch a movie marathon here? It_ is _on the bucket list. Could knock off two in one night! Nah, it should be special, right? Like a real date. Shit!_

Dean stared down at _Tom Sawyer_ , realizing he hadn’t turned a page in the last 30 minutes. He closed the book and leaned his head back in his chair. Who was he kidding? Dean hadn’t been on a date in years. Picking up women in bars? Sure. Asking a woman out on a date? Even when he was with Lisa, they were already past dating; they were living together from the get-go.

_It’s not like we’re going to go out to a club and go dancing, right? I mean, I don’t dance and I’m not going to look like an idiot on a first date. First. Date. Shit!_

Dean made his way through the bunker until he found Sam loading up a duffel bag in his bedroom. He stopped in his brother’s doorway and watched him pack. Sam looked up and nodded at him.

“Hey,” Sam said.

“Hey,” Dean replied. A pang of guilt hit him in the gut. “Uh, you got a case?”

“Yup,” Sam answered, flashing a brief smile at his brother. He turned and headed back to his dresser, casually opening up a drawer and grabbing a few t-shirts.

“You, uh, need any help?” Dean asked reluctantly. He didn’t want to go, but he didn’t want to leave Sam in the lurch. He certainly didn’t want to put him in jeopardy.

“Nope,” Sam smiled. He reached over for a small bag, opening it and looking inside. Dean watched his brother pick up deodorant and toothpaste and toss them in.

“You got back up?” Dean prodded.

“All taken care of, Dean,” he assured. He stopped and looked at his brother. “Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah, kind of. I was going to ask your opinion on something,” Dean stammered. “Sam, are you sure I shouldn’t go with you? Where’s the case? What’s the deal?”

Sam grinned. “I’m a big boy, Dean. I got this. But I’m going to be in Indiana. Haunting.” He crossed his arms and looked at Dean pointedly. “What’s on your mind?”

“Uh, it’s stupid. Never mind.” Dean turned to go, not wanting to bother Sam with something as trivial as dating advice when he was about to go risk his life.

“Dean.”

He sighed dejectedly and faced his brother. “I don’t know where to take Cas on a date. Pretty stupid, right?”

Sam chuckled. “You want _my_ advice.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I said it’s stupid. Sorry,” Dean grumbled, making another attempt to escape Sam’s scrutiny.

“No, Dean, it’s not stupid,” Sam sighed. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’m an idiot and this is crazy, and where do you take a million-year-old angel who only eats to be polite and knows everything and, by the way, is a dude? I ain’t going to a bar with him and we’re not going to Lady-and-the-Tramp it over a plate of spaghetti. But if we get a pizza and stay here, is that really a date? Shit.” Dean leaned against the door jamb and shook his head. This would be easier if it actually was a first date. But it wasn’t. “What’s an appropriate first date with a best friend you’ve known for years?”

Sam smiled. “Okay, so I get it. You want to be clear that this isn’t just ‘let’s hang out.’ But I doubt he knows everything, Dean, and just because he knows something doesn’t mean he’s done it. He hadn’t read _Tom Sawyer_ , right?”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed skeptically.

“What’s wrong with a movie?” Sam offered.

“Nothing, I guess. I just wanted to do something a little different.”

“It’ll be dark, Dean,” Sam couldn’t stop himself. It was just too easy. “You guys could make out in the back row with the teenagers.”

“Fuck off, Sam,” Dean sighed.

“Lighten up dude and stop taking things so seriously,” Sam countered. He paused. “Here’s my thought. Pizza and movies here works. You just tell him that you want this to be a date. I’ll be gone anyway, so you’ll have some privacy. Or you could ask him to help you with something else on your list. I mean the fishing trip was kind of a date, right?”

Dean allowed himself a small smile. “I bet he’s never baked an apple pie.”

“There you go, and you’d have dessert.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck absent-mindedly and let out a huff. He looked his brother in the eye. “Thanks, man. Crap, I hope this isn’t a ridiculously bad idea.”

“You were going to ask him to help you with the pie anyway, weren’t you?” Sam asked.

“Yup,” Dean said. He stared at his brother’s duffel bag. It would be so easy to avoid this whole thing and just go with Sam. He could be packed in 15 minutes. The haunting would probably be a quick job. Cas would understand.

“No.”

Dean looked up, startled. “Huh?”

“You aren’t coming with me Dean, so don’t even think about it. Go get your angel, man.”

Dean smiled at the floor and said, “Shut up, dude. And thanks.” He looked up. “Check in every once in a while, okay?”

\--------------------------------------

_Okay, just breathe and call him on the damn phone._

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’ voice came across the line, deep and unmistakably happy to hear from him.

“Hey Cas, uh,” Dean exhaled and closed his eyes, “I, uh, well Sam’s going on a hunt and I thought we could work on that apple pie. Maybe order a pizza and watch a movie?” He swallowed. “I want to spend time with you Cas. Would that be okay?”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas said. He hesitated, then said, “Dean, is this a date?”

Dean paused. This is it. “Yes. If you want it to be. If I messed that up, then no, this is just two friends baking a pie,” Dean said quickly. _‘Cause that’s what bros do, they bake pies together. Shit._

“Good,” Cas replied. “I mean about the date, Dean. I was hoping that I was using the right combination of verbal and non-verbal cues to communicate my intentions.”

“Yeah, Cas, about that? Why now? I mean what changed?”

“You were finally ready to stretch.”

\---------------------------------------------

Stretching past the bay leaves and season salt to the very back of the shelf, Dean finally found what he was looking for. He pulled the oversized container of cinnamon out by its lid, only to discover that it was completely empty. _Crap. Well, it’s probably been in here for 35 years, so I should get a new one anyway,_ he thought _._

He was making a shopping list for the caramel apple pie recipe he found online. The picture alone had stopped him in his tracks. After staring at it for two full minutes before even scrolling down for the instructions, he felt like maybe he should clear his internet browser history. Damn, it was a thing of beauty. He wrote the following on his list:

  *          1 double pie crust
  *          unsalted butter
  *          all-purpose flour
  *          granulated sugar
  *          brown sugar
  *          cinnamon
  *          6-7 granny smith apples, peeled, cored, and sliced (green ones)
  *          Apple corer/slicer
  *          Peeler
  *          Beer
  *          Pizza



He opened a few cabinet drawers, finding the familiar pots, pans and lids. He never remembered seeing a pie plate, though, so Dean checked one more time before adding it to the list. The kicker for this recipe was that it recommended letting the pie sit out for at least four hours, preferably closer to 12. That was going to be exquisite torture, but if they got started early enough, they could feasibly eat pizza through _The Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones_ and _Revenge of the Sith_ ; eat some pie; take a nap; and then watch _A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back_ and _Return of the Jedi_.

Sam was planning to leave as soon as Dean came back with the Impala, so he needed to get a move on. Dean was logged into Netflix on Sam’s laptop and ready to pull the trigger on the first movie.

At 11:00 am he had everything laid out on the kitchen’s steel table and picked up his cell. He texted Cas with emojis for apple, cake (no damn pie emoji, that sucks), pizza and a movie camera. Ten seconds later, a thumbs up and a smiley face with hearts for eyes appeared. Five seconds after that, Cas was there.

\-------------------------------

“There’s no reason why we can’t bake the pizza while we’re slicing apples, Dean,” Cas said as he removed his suit jacket and tie and started rolling up his sleeves.

Dean had pulled the plastic film off the frozen pizza, but paused before putting it on the cookie sheet. “Are you sure it won’t make the pie taste like pepperoni?” he asked.

“I think it will be just fine,” Cas replied. He walked over to the table and stopped next to Dean, lightly placing his hand against the small of Dean’s back as he leaned across and grabbed an apple. Dean looked up at the ceiling, barely hiding a grin then turned into Cas so they were face to face, inches away from each other.

“Cas,” he smiled, “Dude, let me say that you are doing an awesome job at this, and I should know. I’ve never been on the _receiving_ end of it, but, man I get it. You don’t need to find an excuse to…” He paused, unsure if he was prepared to finish that sentence.

“Are you sure, Dean?” Cas replied, his eyes smiling. Standing this close had never bothered him, and he could see Dean trying not to react. “I actually enjoy finding an excuse to touch you. It feels like I’ve been waiting an eternity to do just that.”

Dean’s smile faded just a bit. Being near Cas, like this, almost raised the hairs on his arm. He could feel himself flush. He thought for a second he could see Cas’ pulse in the skin of his neck and suddenly he was leaning forward. Cas stilled as Dean gently kissed him there, smelling his skin and feeling the heat of his body on Dean’s own lips.

“Dean,” Cas murmured in his gravelly voice.

Dean felt the vibrations and smiled. He registered how different Cas’ skin felt compared to Lisa’s. There was something a little thrilling to it. He moved in, sliding his arms around Cas’ waist and pulling him closer, then he brushed his lips up Cas’ neck. Cas tipped his head back, so Dean had plenty of real estate to map and slid his hands up Dean’s arms, resting them on his biceps.

Dean’s lips were on Cas’ jaw. He turned his head to rub his cheek against the light stubble there, then his lips were millimeters from Cas’ and he stopped.

“Can I?” he whispered, and Cas leaned into him in response, soft lips touching. Dean closed his eyes and pressed back, feeling Cas’ hands on his face, holding him. They shared several chaste kisses, until Dean pulled back and smiled. He exhaled. “That was…good Cas. That was nice. Uh, you smell great.”

Cas smiled back, then leaned his forehead against Dean’s. “Dean that was better than I imagined it would be, and I imagined it would be fairly amazing.”

“Maybe we should make a pie and do that again,” Dean said softly.

“Hand me another apple.”

\--------------------------------

“Apple pie with caramel sauce is probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard,” Dean laughed. He had rolled one pie crust out and was now placing it in the pan. After watching a video on YouTube, he had cut the second crust into thin strips to make a lattice top. Thinly sliced apples bobbed in a bowl of lemon water, per Cas’ suggestion (“I saw it on _The Food Network_ , Dean”).

Cas smiled as he said, “To you, I believe it. Perhaps I will try to find a few other sexy things for you to hear. How about 'Southern Brown Sugar Pie' or 'Peanut Butter Chocolate Cream Pie'? I watched chefs create both of those on the television show _Cook’s Country_. What comes after the flour, Dean?”

“Hold on,” Dean replied, setting down his knife and scrolling through the recipe on his cell phone. “It says ‘Melt one cup butter in a sauce pan. Stir in six tablespoons of flour to form a paste. Add one cup granulated sugar, one cup brown sugar, one teaspoon cinnamon, and 1/2 cup of water. Bring to a boil. Reduce temperature, and simmer for five minutes.’ Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Let me know when it’s ready. I’m putting in the apple slices right now.”

“Did you preheat the oven?” Cas asked.

“Yes I preheated the oven,” Dean chuckled. He took handfuls of apple slices and placed them on a paper towel to get rid of as much extra moisture as possible, then arranged them in the dish. Soon Cas was beside him with the pot of caramel sauce. “Pour half of that on there,” Dean instructed.

Dean laid five strips of dough in one direction across the mound of apples and sauce. Then he carefully pulled back the second and fourth strips, just like in the video, and placed a new strip going in the opposite direction over the first, third and fifth pieces. He then unfolded the second and fourth strips so they lay over the new section of dough. Then he folded back the first, third and fifth pieces and placed another new strip, also perpendicular to those, across the second and fourth sections. When he unfolded the three strips, he could easily make out the lattice formation. He continued the pattern until he had all ten strips in a beautiful basket weave. Lastly, he crimped the strips to the bottom crust with his fingers, tearing off pieces that were too long.

“Okay, pour the rest of the sauce over the entire thing, Cas. Just go slow so it doesn’t run off.” Dean turned and grabbed the new jar of cinnamon. As soon as Cas was done, he sprinkled some over the top. He opened the oven door and then gingerly slid the pie in the center. He pulled up the timer app on his phone and set it for 15 minutes. “Okay, ‘15 minutes at 425 degrees, then reduce the temperature to 350 degrees, and continue baking for 35 to 45 minutes.’ Got that?”

“Yes. Come here,” Cas replied.

Dean looked up, wondering what the problem was as he wiped his hands on a towel. He stepped towards Cas, who met him in a quick hug and kissed his forehead. Dean immediately felt a blush hit his cheeks.

“This will be an amazing, delicious pie,” Cas guaranteed. “Now tell me about this _Phantom Menace_.”

The two sat propped up against the head of Dean’s bed watching young Anakin win the Podrace and his freedom. Dean had a plate full of pizza slices and Cas a small bowl of popcorn. They held hands, and every once in a while Cas would rub a small circle on the top of Dean’s thumb. At the closing credits of _Revenge of the Sith_ , Dean smiled and wagged his eyebrows.

“What?” Cas asked.

“Pie Time!” Dean crowed. He released Cas’ hand and hopped up, making his way to the kitchen. Cas stretched and then followed him. It was close to 7:30 pm.

“God it smells good,” Dean sighed. He looked at Cas and winked before slicing into the dessert.

“Do you two need some privacy, Dean?” Cas joked.

“Dude, shut up and come here.” He held up a forkful for Cas. The aroma of sweet sugar, warm apples and baked pastry were heady. Cas reached out for the fork and Dean twisted it away. “Open,” he said instead, smiling broadly.

Cas laughed as Dean placed the bite of pie in Cas’ mouth and watched with interest as the angel’s lips surrounded it and pulled the pieces of apple and sauce off the fork.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Dean it is fantastic. Try it yourself,” Cas replied.

“Oh crap,” Dean groaned as the first bite hit his taste buds. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever tasted!”

“I don’t think so,” Cas smiled. Dean had just enough time to swallow before Cas was on him, mouth pressed against his. Dean could taste sugar on Cas’ lips and lightly licked them with his tongue. Cas opened and the two slowly kissed, tasting caramel and apples on each others breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://happyfoodhealthylife.com/2014/11/06/homemade-caramel-apple-pie/  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=65&v=XKPbLXhAHbc


	5. Marathon

• Breath slow and steady

• Chest rising and falling rhythmically

• Head resting against Cas’ shoulder

All of these telltale signs were enough to let Cas know that Dean was out. Final credits for _Return of the Jedi_ were scrolling on the laptop’s screen, so Cas logged out of Netflix and looked at the small digital clock on Dean’s nightstand. It was 2:14 am.

For all of his enthusiasm, Dean only lasted about 27 minutes into their final movie. Cas had kept watching so he could answer all of the questions Dean was sure to have for him, not the least of which was going to be “what was your favorite part?” Besides, he didn’t want the evening to end. He would have gladly sat through all six movies again if it meant feeling the warmth from Dean’s body leaning against his own for another 13 hours.

The pie was, of course, a huge success. They ate three pieces between the two of them, and then spent another 30 minutes discovering how the other liked to be kissed. Although it hadn’t changed in the years Dean had known him, Cas’ face suddenly required detailed examination and Cas was happy to sit patiently while Dean touched his cheekbones and ran his lips across Cas’ chin.

“You are a handsome man, Cas,” Dean had concluded, lightly tracing the rim of Castiel’s left ear. “And I don’t think I’ve said that about anyone other than myself, Dr. Sexy, and Sam. Of course Sam was 15 and wouldn’t get the hell out of the car to get Suzy Wilson for Homecoming, so I had to say something to get him to open the friggin’ door.” He sighed. “It’s weird to feel like this about you, though. I mean, you’re my best friend.”

“Dean, I have found you fascinating and beautiful since the first time I saw you. Being your friend is an honor, but this, right now, is even better.” He had reached out and tangled his fingers in Dean’s. “It’s that plus the chance to learn even more about you, to touch you and to make you happy. I just want to be with you.”

“Be with me?” Dean had repeated.

“I want to be, but with you.”

Dean was relaxed and peaceful in sleep – no twitches or even snores. Cas sat still and let time move around them for a while, listening to Dean breathe and concentrating on how his own skin responded to Dean’s body heat through the fabric of his white button-down shirt. Soon he determined that Dean should be more comfortable, so he gingerly set the laptop on the ledge behind the bed and contemplated his next move. He slid his arm behind Dean and turned into him, rolling slightly so Dean’s head moved to his chest. Just holding him like this filled Cas with an emotion he couldn’t quite identify, but made him feel simultaneously invincible and like his legs could give out at any moment. Although he hated to do it, he softly whispered in Dean’s ear, “Scoot down. Lie down.”

Dean stirred, and then looked sleepily at Cas, who smiled back. “Scoot down so you can sleep, Dean,” he quietly repeated. Then Cas inched down the bed with Dean still in his arms so Dean understood what he was trying to do. Dean sat up grumbling, practically tossed himself down the bed and rolled away from Cas on his side.

Cas sat there, alone and uncertain, when he heard a gruff and sleepy voice say, “Cas.” He looked down to see Dean’s hand open and fingers wiggling over his back. Smiling, Cas snuggled up behind Dean and interlaced their fingers, sliding his other arm beneath Dean’s neck. Dean tugged Cas’ hand, pulling the angel’s arm over his side. Cas lay just like that, smiling, for the next three hours.

\------------------------------------

Hours later the two sat around the kitchen table, Dean eating scrambled eggs, bacon and toast and Cas sipping on a large glass of orange juice. “I’m going to put a big check mark next to #7,” Dean said around a mouthful of eggs, “But I still think that if we’re that good at making an apple pie, we have got to go for pumpkin. What do you think?”

“I agree completely, Dean,” Cas said approvingly. “And pecan after that.”

Dean’s eyes shot up. “Shit, yeah! Dude we will have Thanksgiving covered!” He held out his fist and Cas looked at it and then Dean questioningly. “Cas,” Dean said patiently, “this is called a fist bump. Make a fist. Now bump it against my fist. It’s like a high five. There you go.” He shook his head, smiling.

“You don’t consider 13 hours of _Star Wars_ movies enough to check off #3 as well?” Cas inquired.

“Well, I didn’t finish,” Dean replied.

“So you’re going to watch _Return of the Jedi_ again?”

“No, I have to watch them all again. It’s a movie marathon, Cas. I blew it. Gotta start all over.”

Cas sat up straight and looked warily at Dean. “You are joking,” he said.

“I am joking,” Dean mimicked and leaned over the table. “But it was worth the look on your face,” he smiled. Then he lightly kissed Cas and retreated to his side of the table with a look of triumph in his eyes.

The angel shook his head but a small smile tugged at the right corner of his mouth. “What do you want to do today?” he asked.

Dean considered. He was sure the earliest Sam would be back would be tomorrow afternoon, but it would be great to just relax a bit. He felt no need to hurry his bucket list and he felt no need to rush things with Cas. “I’d like to spend a little time reading today and hanging out with you, if that’s okay.”

Cas smiled and picked a piece of bacon off Dean’s plate. Dean smiled back and reached up for the slice as Cas was just about to take a bite. “Dude. Just. No,” he protested, shaking his head.

Cas looked crestfallen, seemed to reluctantly give up the slice, muttered “Dean?” and held Dean’s eyes as he deftly poached another piece from Dean’s plate then victoriously took a bite. Dean had the good grace to look stunned. “I am a soldier of Heaven, Dean. I am not to be trifled with when it comes to bacon.”

“You’re a little shit when it comes to bacon!” Dean replied, and then laughed as Cas crammed the entire piece in his mouth.

“I have a peace offering, then,” Cas announced. He wiped his hands on a nearby towel and walked over to the trench coat he had folded across a chair the day before. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a wrapped gift about 7” tall by 4” wide and handed it to Dean. Dean accepted it, and then gave Cas a puzzled look. 

"What’s this?” he asked.

“Open it and see,” Cas responded.

Dean looked uncomfortable but carefully unwrapped the gift. Under the blue paper he found a dark brown, leather-bound journal with his initials embossed in gold at the bottom center of the cover. It was beautiful. He ran his hand across the grain of it, appreciating the slight wave. He quickly looked up at Cas with a wistful smile then returned his attention to the present, flipping it open to see lined pages with gilded edges and a thin gold ribbon for a page marker. He turned it over in his hands to see the back and then flipped it to the front, tracing his initials with his finger.

“Cas, this is…”

“I want you to have a place to keep your bucket list and other thoughts during your retirement,” Cas said. He paused. “It appears that you like it.”

“Thank you, man,” he said, looking up at Cas and smiling. Dean carefully set the journal on the table, walked over and instinctively slid his arms around Cas’ waist. They stood facing each other until Dean leaned in a little and put his head in the crook of Cas’ neck, resting his cheek against the other man’s collarbone. “Thank you,” he repeated. Cas reached around him and held him tightly.

After three seconds, Dean thought about how awkward he felt standing this way and started to move off, but Cas kept him close, like he knew. “You’re safe here, Dean,” he said, his words deep and warm. Cas felt Dean sigh and relax against him. He held Dean close until the urge to kiss him was so strong he couldn’t resist it anymore.

\--------------------------------------------

“Any more pie left?” Dean called from the library. Cas was rifling through the refrigerator for something to drink besides water.

“I should hope so, Dean,” he replied to the remaining three slices of pizza and the gallon of milk. He walked out of the kitchen and around the corner so he wouldn’t have to yell. Dean was engrossed in the task before him, several pieces of loose paper and his cell phone on the table, and the new journal open. Cas never tired of looking at him, a strikingly handsome man even in a plain t-shirt and jeans but currently filled with what Cas could only describe as boyish enthusiasm. “I’ll get you a slice,” he said. “Do you have any tea?”

“Hm?” Dean asked, breaking his concentration to look up at Cas. “Uh, no. I don’t think so. Put it on the shopping list on the fridge, though.” He shot Cas a quick smile then went back to transcribing his bucket list into the journal. He planned to repeat each item on its own page so he could add comments like pie recipes he wanted to make. He would put the reading list last so he would have plenty of room to jot down notes for each book.

Back in the kitchen, Cas cut a slice of pie and warmed it in the microwave for 30 seconds, just enough to take the chill off. He stood, reflecting, and then smiled to himself and grabbed a fork.

Dean was busy writing but noticed Cas enter the room and sit in a large, overstuffed leather chair to his right. He glanced up then stopped and stared at Cas, who calmly sat, cutting a piece of pie off the slice with his fork. “Uh, I thought you were going to bring me some?” he asked with just a hint of confusion in his voice.

“I did, Dean. This is for you.”

“Then why do you have it over there?” Dean replied. He was teetering on the edge of annoyance. It was his pie, dammit.

“Dean,” Cas said sternly. Dean’s surprise was evident, his eyes widened. “Come here.”

Dean rose, a little unsure about Cas’ change in demeanor.

“Sit,” Cas continued firmly.

Dean looked around him. “Where, dude?”

“Quiet, Dean. I said sit,” and he nodded to the floor in front of his chair.

Dean looked at Cas incredulously. “On the…” he started but immediately closed his mouth when Cas shot him a stony glare. _What the hell is going on?_ he thought. And then he realized that he was breathing a little faster and his heart was pounding. Cas looked pissed off and pissing off an angel was never a good idea. He wasn’t sure what he did to make Cas so mad, it was just a piece of pie, but he did what he was told and sat on the floor, feeling like an idiot and a child. He looked up at Cas and felt his pulse start racing.

Cas held out a bite of pie on the fork and gruffly barked “Open.”

And of course, Dean got it. Immediately. And his dick got it too because it instantly twitched at the command. He closed his eyes briefly, cataloging this new piece of information about himself, and then opened his mouth. Cas’ tried to hide his smile as he fed Dean the bite of pie.

He watched Dean chew and swallow, but then his features tensed and he leaned forward, repeating the command in Dean’s face. This time Dean closed his eyes. He tasted apples, and then Cas’ fingers in his mouth and apparently caramel apple pie + adrenaline + Cas’ skin + burgeoning hard on = holy shit because he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his lips. They both froze as they heard it and then Dean flushed crimson. He looked up at Cas, pleading with his eyes.

“Again,” Cas said, this time with a little tremor in his voice.

Dean complied and Cas pushed his thumb and finger, both sticky with caramel sauce and apples, into Dean’s mouth. “Lick them clean, Dean,” Cas ordered. He closed his eyes as he felt Dean’s tongue move across the sensitive pads, over the nails, into the “V” between the two digits and then Dean was sucking the sweetness off and Cas groaned out loud. He pulled his hand away, surprising Dean, who had closed his eyes, lost in the taste of the saltiness of Cas’ skin next to the sweetness of the sugar. Then the plate was gone, somewhere, as Cas pulled Dean bodily up off the floor and onto his lap, helping him circle his legs around Cas’ hips in the big chair.

Cas’ mouth was on him, crushing their lips together. He opened and Dean responded instantly, both eagerly tasting, swirling tongues together, desperate to feed the other. Dean didn’t hold back, certain Cas could withstand him. Then Cas spread his legs, dropped Dean down, held his ass in his hands and ground their cocks together. They both shouted at the sensation, Dean shocked and hard, Cas virtually growling with need. Then their mouths were back together as Cas thrust at Dean repeatedly through too many layers of denim and fabric.

“Oh shit, Cas!” Dean panted, hanging onto Cas’ shoulders for dear life as the angel effortlessly moved them together. He realized how easy this was, how fantastic Cas felt against him, how quickly he had given up control and how amazing the reward for that had been. He was so hard and the feeling of Cas’ erection pushing against his through his jeans was like torture – rough and electric. He tried to breathe through it. God, it had been so long since he’d felt this way. Then Cas’ head was against Dean’s chest and he could hear Cas moaning into his own body. And that was it.

“Cas!” was all he could get out and he was coming hard in his jeans like a teenager. It didn’t matter. Cas was right behind him, with a final thrust and then hot wetness.

They panted together, coming down, Cas holding Dean tight against him and muttering something Dean couldn’t hear.

“Oh my god, Cas,” Dean said almost reverently. He pushed Cas’ face up so he could see those deep blue eyes and he was met with panic and fear.

"Dean, I am so sorry! I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry,” he kept chanting, more to himself than to Dean. “It was too much. It was too soon. I shouldn’t have.”

“Hey.” Dean grabbed Cas’ face and pulled it right in front of his own. “Hey!” he repeated, raising his voice. “Stop it. Cas, that was the hottest fucking thing I have ever done. How did you know to do that? Oh my god, and then your fingers in my mouth and grinding your cock against me. It felt so good.”

Cas just looked at him with such pain in his eyes that Dean thought he might cry.

“Cas, please, stop doing this to yourself. Yeah, it was sooner than I planned, but dude, it was fucking amazing.” Dean kissed him, hard. “You were great, Cas. I want to do it again.”

That got Cas’ attention. “You do?” He searched Dean’s eyes, and then added. “Dean I want you to know that you’re safe with me. I don’t ever want to do anything that you don’t want.”

“Cas, if I had asked you to stop, you would have. But I didn’t. I get it, man. Please, don’t do this.” Then he took a deep breath and let it out. “I, uh, I loved it when you told me what to do,” he admitted. “You are so fucking strong, Cas. You just moved me around like I was nothing. That was so hot.”

Cas grinned sheepishly. “Dean, I have never done that before. I just remembered how you reacted to the s’more and…” He smiled at the memory. “I think we should probably get cleaned up.”

“Let’s take a shower,” Dean agreed, squirming to try and remove himself from Cas’ lap. “I want to see you.”

Cas merely stood, holding Dean to him and then eased him down so he could straighten his legs.

“Son of a bitch, Cas. That is sexy as fuck.”


	6. Treasures

_Fuck, do you even wash a suit?_ Dean thought. “Cas, what do you want me to do with these slacks, man? It says dry clean.” 

Cas stood at Dean’s elbow, evaluating the suit pants’ current condition. “I have no idea, Dean,” he admitted. 

Their clothes ended up in a pile in the laundry room except for boxers and boxer briefs. Both found themselves a little too shy to trek through the bunker au natural.

“Are you sure about this, Dean?” Cas asked, arms folded and leaning against the bathroom door frame.

Dean sat on the edge of the tub in navy boxer briefs, checking the temperature of the water coming out of the tub’s faucet. “Yup,” he answered. “You okay with this?” he asked, looking up at Cas questioningly.

“Yes, although I feel…anxious,” Castiel said honestly. Looking down at Dean, he let his eyes travel across the tanned skin in front of him. He resisted the urge to reach out, fairly certain that the opportunity would be provided within moments. But from his current vantage point, he couldn’t help but appreciate the muscles on Dean’s thighs, his toned core and smooth skin. For some reason the familiar tattoo made him smile. He would have to wait to touch Dean’s shoulders and chest, wondered how Dean’s bare arms would feel under his fingers.

Dean smiled and Cas was struck by how handsome the man was. The years had been good to Dean, whether he believed so or not, and in Cas’ eyes, Dean’s face reflected his maturity. His jaw and chin showed his strength. His brow echoed his compassion and concern. And in those green eyes, Cas saw the soul of a man who had spent years trying to learn the lessons life continually presented. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of Dean’s life telling him how remarkable he really was.

Dean stood. “Come on, Cas,” he said, then turned, stripped off his underwear and stepped into the shower. Cas sighed and did the same.

Cas stood towards the end of the tub, watching water pour down Dean’s back as he dipped his head under the shower head. “Can I touch you,” he asked, “or is this platonic showering? You said you wanted to see me.”

Dean turned and looked at him, eyebrows raised. “This isn’t an inspection, Cas. I’ve just never had a chance to really look at you. You’re always wearing a lot of clothes.” He took a deep breath and asked, “Is it okay for me to touch _you_?”

“Yes.”

“Then turn around and face the wall.”

Cas turned and within seconds soapy hands were running across his shoulders and back, down his sides.

“I thought you were smaller, but you’re really not,” Cas heard behind him. “We’re about the same size. Of course I’ve got about two inches on you.”

“Yes, you are a little taller than I am,” Cas murmured, relaxing under Dean’s hands.

“Not those two inches, Cas,” Dean laughed, and then he stepped close, reached around and placed a sudsy hand on the other man’s cock, tentatively squeezing.

Cas groaned and leaned his head against the tile. “Not platonic, Dean,” he whispered.

“Just getting the lay of the land, Cas,” Dean said in his ear. “Plus getting cleaned up is the reason we’re in here.”

“Then you have two and a half hours to stop that,” Cas countered.

Dean chuckled. “Your sense of humor has gotten a lot better.” He continued to slowly stroke Cas, not trying to wind him up. He leaned his head against Cas’ back and let his other hand slide across Cas’ chest.

The frenzy from before was gone, at least for now. To Dean, this was more of a slow dance. Although he wouldn’t have admitted it, he had been thinking about running his hands over Cas since Topeka. Right now he needed Cas to know that he wasn’t afraid of this. It was new, and it was different, but Dean was more than curious. He knew he wanted Cas, and knew Cas wanted everything Dean was willing to give him.

Dean moved both hands to Cas’ back, then slid them down his ass and the backs of his thighs, squatting in the shower behind him. Then Dean lathered up his hands again and started bathing the angel, from his left ankle, up to his calf and then thigh, next switching sides and lathering up the right leg in the same way. He skipped up to Cas’ lower back, then stomach, feeling the taut muscles there. He massaged up between Cas’ shoulder blades, where he imagined huge wings would be attached, and was rewarded with a distinctive shiver. Dean cleaned the tops of Cas’ shoulders, then again stood close, skin touching the angel’s back, and washed his chest. He lathered the backs of Cas’ arms, lifting them up so Cas’ hands were now against the tiled wall and Dean could stretch out against Cas’ entire body.

Dean could feel Cas start to lightly shake against him and let out a slight moan. Dean pressed against him until their breathing matched, kissing the back of his neck and smelling his hair. Cas turned, kissed Dean deeply and wound both arms around his body to draw him in close.

Dean pulled back slightly. “You okay?” he asked.

“Happy, Dean,” Cas whispered into Dean’s mouth. “I am very happy.”

“Uh, yes you are. Damn Cas, how can…”

“Just ignore it, Dean,” Cas said, trailing kisses down Dean’s neck.

“I must be getting old,” Dean mused, leaning his head back.

Cas grinned into Dean’s shoulder. “Yes, you are an old, old man.”

“Cas, do you want me to…”

“No. It’s not important,” Cas replied, breathing in the scent of Dean’s skin.

Dean huffed. “Cas, all massages come with a happy ending. Turn around.”

“Dean…”

“Just shut up.”

So Cas let go and turned around to face the back of the shower again. Dean put Cas’ hands back up against the tile. He soaped up, leaned his body against Cas’ back and hugged his chest, then wrapped his hand around Cas’ already hard cock. Cas groaned again.

“Watch,” Dean whispered in his ear.

Cas looked down and drew a shaky breath as Dean’s tanned hand stroked his pale skin. He was mesmerized and the sensation was unbelievable – an easy glide aided by the soap, occasional roughness from a callus on Dean’s palm, pressure all around his cock thanks to Dean’s grip, heat from Dean’s body against his back. Dean kept an even, steady pace, working Cas for several minutes, feeling Cas panting in front of him. Then he slowed his hand.

“Move into it, Cas,” Dean said behind him.

Cas paused, then rocked his hips into Dean’s fist and felt the nerves in his body light up down to his feet. He cried out, and then couldn’t stop, instead watched himself thrust into Dean’s hand.

Dean felt Cas’ muscles tightening, knew how close he was, and then felt him push back against his chest and come against him, Dean’s name filling the shower. He felt Cas’ release pulse out of his body, sticky warmth on his fingers. His other arm still held Cas tight, keeping him steady, until he felt Cas come back to himself.

“Dean,” Cas whispered.

"Damn Cas, that was… ” Dean said quietly. “I think I’m going to need to feel that for myself. Very soon.”

“Do you want me to…”

“No,” Dean said, then turned him around and kissed him. He reached up to the back of Cas’ neck and leaned their foreheads together. “I mean I want to feel you do that _to_ me.”

Water continued to pour out of the shower head and down the drain, but Cas would have sworn that time had stopped. “Dean,” he said slowly. “I want that as well.”

“Good,” Dean replied. Then he blew out a huff of air and composed himself. “Let’s get out of here. I’m hungry.”

\---------------------------------------------------

“Hungry?” Dean asked.

“No,” Cas replied, watching Dean watch him.

They were back in the kitchen. Dean could barely make out the hum of the dryer, which only fed the shit-eating grin he’d been sporting as soon as he had convinced Cas to put on a pair of his jeans and a t-shirt until the clothes were done. Cas in jeans should have been on his bucket list because there was something so inherently sexy about the man when he finally dressed down.

“Well let me get you some water or something. You should hydrate,” Dean offered. “Unless you, uh, don’t need to hydrate?”

Cas’ face asked the question.

“Because you’ve, ah… shit Cas, two orgasms in an hour can take a toll on a body, unless being an angel means you don’t need to be concerned about it,” Dean finally got out.

“Ah, thank you Dean,” Cas smiled. “I would appreciate a glass of water. I’d really like some iced tea,” Cas said matter-of-factually.

“Well, it’s on the list,” Dean smiled. He handed Cas a glass of water, then turned back to the refrigerator and pulled out bread, butter, turkey and two slices of American cheese. He set the ingredients on the metal table, found a reasonably sized pan, and started working on a grilled turkey and cheese sandwich.

After lunch the two were back at the table in the library, Cas reading Dean’s copy of _Tom Sawyer_ and Dean on Sam’s laptop. _We really need a sofa in here_ , Dean thought. Still, it was comfortable enough.

He opened a browser and brought up Craiglist.

When he was interested in a diversion, Dean would often surf the web and look at cars for sale. Sure enough, the first one that came up was a 1962 Bel Air four-door for $1699. It was a project car with all original parts. “Too bad it’s not a two-door,” he muttered out loud.

“What’s not a two-door?” Cas said, nose still in the book.

“Huh? Oh, this 1962 Bel Air. The two-doors are better, more popular,” he explained.

“Show me, please,” Cas requested. Dean turned the screen so he could see it. “Dean, there’s a two-door version of that car at Bobby’s salvage yard,” he said, and then turned back to his reading.

Dean stared at him. “Cas, are you sure?” he asked, hesitating to get excited about this. “Restored versions of that car go for $100,000.” _Bobby would have known about it, would have said something, right?_

“I am certain, Dean. There’s also a 1970 Plymouth Roadrunner Superbird.”

“What?!” Dean nearly shouted. He was on his feet before his feet even knew it. “How do you know, Cas? I mean I wouldn’t think you’d know a Superbird if it bit you on the ass, no offense. I never took you for a ‘car guy.’”

Cas calmly closed the book and looked at Dean, who’s enthusiasm was suddenly so endearing that he couldn’t help but smile. “Bobby showed them to me,” he replied. “We spent quite a bit of time walking the yard after I sent you and Sam back to Wyoming. He called them his treasures and he kept them under tarps in a quonset hut. He also has a 1970 AMC AMX and a 1965 Corvette roadster with a rock guard, which he had indicated was quite unusual. Dean, your mouth is open.”

Dean snapped his jaw shut. “Cas, take me there. Please.”

\----------------------------------------

“Please promise me that you won’t listen the next time I ask you to mojo me somewhere,” Dean groaned. He was doubled over, trying to catch his breath. He stood and blinked a few times. Suddenly his stomach ached and he knew it had nothing to do with the trip there.

Sprawled out beneath the late-day sun, Singer Auto Salvage looked like Dean felt – shitty. The weeds were about as tall as the cars, at least the ones that weren’t stacked on top of each other. It looked like someone had covered the entire place with a two-inch layer of dirt and grime. Dean thought about pictures of Chernobyl, where the wilderness had invaded the city. That’s what this was. Decay.

The place had always had a sense of malaise; it was where dying vehicles went to gasp their last breaths and where dead ones weren’t even given a decent burial, just spread out like corpses in the grass, waiting to become organ donors. But it was a second home for Dean, and its current state was almost painful. He was going to do his damnedest to not even look at the burned-out shell of a house.

“Show me, Cas,” he said sadly.

They walked through patches of empty hulls and stacks of crushed cars four and even five high. Cas led him to a back corner where a white metal structure seemed camouflaged by weeds so high they had trouble finding the door. It was locked, of course, but Cas opened it easily, then turned off the booby trap Bobby had set. Once inside, Dean walked between four lumps under tarps to open the bay door, sending sunlight streaming into the small space.

He looked at Cas expectantly, then pulled off the first tarp.        

The Superbird wasn’t as rough as he thought it would be. The giant red wing was in good condition. Body paneling had its fair share of rust, as did the roof, but the aerodynamic, wedge-shaped nose was intact. He popped the hood, eyeing the 440-cubic-inch, six-pack engine. Dean opened the driver door and sat. Interior work would be around $6,000 alone.

He closed his eyes and thought for a moment. First, he was sitting in one rare piece of machinery. Only 1,935 of these cars were ever made, and who knows how many were actually still around – maybe 1,000? Second, it might take as little as $30,000 to get this thing fixed up, but when he was done, he could sell it for $125,000 to $175,000. He didn’t have $30,000. A smile crept across his face.

“Cas,” he called out, “Come have a seat in here.”

The passenger door gingerly opened and Cas squeezed in, careful not to hit the car next to it. Dean slid his fingers between Cas’ and brought the angel’s hand up to his lips. “I think I’ve found my calling,” he said.

They headed back the way they came, Dean’s eyes roving now, on a mission for bits of coal he could turn into diamonds or at least cubic zirconia. He thought that maybe two cars out of ten could be resuscitated. He would just have to figure out which ones were worth it. Maybe he would come out here for a week each month, find a camper or pitch a tent, and fix and flip one car at a time.

Dean stopped, pulled out of his thoughts by the sight of Bobby’s 1971 Chevelle. It looked like crap. He walked over to it, placed his hands on the roof and sighed.

He looked forlornly at the house. “I wonder who owns all of this now. Sam could probably figure it out. I mean Bobby must have had family.”

“Would you like me to ask him?” Cas offered.

Dean turned and stared. “Shit, Cas. You can do that?”

“Yes, Dean. One of the perks,” he smiled and shrugged.

“Yeah. Ask him if he would be okay with me fixing up and selling the cars too. And tell him the Chevelle is coming home.”

\---------------------------------------------

Home was six hours pretty much due south and Dean knew the way with his eyes closed. He had found the keys to the long tow truck where he expected, in the visor. Once he and Cas had loaded the Chevelle and a donor car up, Dean sent Sam a pic with the caption “Heading to Bunker.”

The trip was uneventful; Dean spent most of it developing a mental business plan. He just hoped Bobby would give him his blessing and that there was no heir apparent waiting in the wings. Sam would see what the deal was when he returned.

It was midnight when he finally crawled into bed. He was just about asleep when a familiar rushing of air had him smiling. He felt Cas climb into bed behind him and pull him close.

“What did he say?” Dean mumbled.

“I wish you could have seen the expression on his face, Dean. He was very happy.”

“What about the property?”

“He was frustrated that you hadn’t found his will.”

“His what?” Dean asked, turning to face Cas and trying to clear his head.

“He had a will in a fireproof safe in the basement. He was… perturbed that you hadn’t found it. Dean, he left his home and property to you and Sam.”

Dean smiled, his head inches from Cas. “I guess we’ll be heading back there, then. Hey,” he added, reaching out to run his thumb across Cas’ chin, “did he notice your lack of trench coat?”

Cas smiled back at him, leaning in for a kiss, and said, “He said, ‘About time.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=Bobby%27s_Car  
> http://www.moparblog.com


	7. Brewing

Cas had become a fairly regular fixture around the bunker these days, and Sam could easily see Dean’s mood improve whenever he was around. The two kept the public displays to a minimum, but Sam also did his best to give them some space. Overall, the arrangement worked well, but sometimes when Sam caught them standing close in the kitchen or holding hands, he would just walk in and treat it as normal so they got the message that he didn’t mind and was happy for them.

Currently, Cas was leaning over Sam’s shoulder, both of them studying the laptop screen.

“Time’s up, guys,” Dean called from the door, jingling the keys to the Impala. “Let’s go.” He had just showered and changed into jeans and a t-shirt that weren’t covered in grease.

Cas looked up and grinned. “One moment, Dean,” he said.

Sam hurriedly jotted down something on a page in his notebook and stood.

“You got it?” Dean asked Sam.

“Yup,” Sam answered. “It’s on West Douglas in Wichita. Should take us a little over three hours.”

“Let’s get going, then,” Dean smiled.

“Sam?” Cas asked.

“Yeah?” Sam replied, turning off the laptop.

“Shotgun,” he said with a laugh. 

\-------------------------------------

Laughing, Dean opened the door to the little homebrew shop and was immediately impressed. He spotted numerous shelves of extracts and grains, liquid yeasts, priming sugars, and something called Irish Moss. Large glass bottles of various sizes were on display. He inhaled deeply, hoping for a beer contact high.

“How you folks doing?” someone asked behind them. Dean turned to find a shorter man in his late 50s with brown hair, a name tag that said “Jerry,” and a handlebar mustache of which Dean was instantly jealous.

“Good!” he replied. “Uh, I have never brewed my own beer and I want to learn how. I’m guessing you have some kind of package, right?”

“That we do,” Jerry assured him. “Our standard kits include everything you need to make two and a half cases of beer except a capper and bottles, and a large pot, and water. What kind of beer are you wantin’ to brew?”

Dean looked at Sam, who said “Maybe pale ale or a wheat beer?”

“We can do that,” Jerry said, nodding his head. He started walking towards the middle of the store. “Kit’s the best way to go. Only $70. You’ll get a 7.9 gallon fermenter, that big plastic bucket over there, plus a lid and an air lock so you can see the yeast doing its job. You’ll also get a siphon hose and clamp, a racking tube, a hydrometer, corn sugar, malt extract, yeast,” he continued, pointing out all the components, “bottle caps and a brush and a filler, some cleaner and a book. So a capper and bottles would be separate, as well as hops if you wanted to add those for flavor or aroma. Also, are you in a rush or is this going to be a ‘food of love’ thing?”

“I’ve waited this long,” Dean shrugged, “and I want to do this right, so let’s go with ‘food of love.’”

“Alright then,” Jerry said approvingly, “I would recommend a secondary fermentation step. It will ensure that your beer is clearer but it adds another two weeks to the process. Also means you need either another fermentation bucket or one of those glass carboy bottles.”

Dean nodded, considering Jerry’s advice. He walked over to a shelf lined with plastic bottles that were filled with dark brown liquids. Another row boasted cans with pictures of tall glasses of delicious beer. He read a few labels and asked, “These malt extracts. Which ones would be included?”

“Any of the ones in the plastic bottles,” Jerry explained. He walked over and picked one up, handing it to Dean. “This wheat malt extract would go in your kit, as well as some WLP 380 yeast. And then I would recommend adding hallertauer hops.” He strode over to a small cooler, reaching in to grab a bag filled with little green buds. “Now do you have a five gallon stock pot with a lid at home?”

Dean looked at Cas and Sam and shrugged. “I doubt we have anything that big,” Sam replied.

“Okay,” Jerry said, grabbing a pot from a display and putting it on the sales counter along with the extract, yeast and hops. He pointed to a five-gallon glass bottle in front of Cas and said, “Bring that over here, son.”

Cas smiled at Dean but complied.

“You’re not going to need bottles and a capper for a couple of weeks, so you could save yourself some money and wait on those,” the shopkeeper advised.

“Yeah,” Dean remarked, “But we live three hours away. I think we should just get everything we need now.” He walked over to Sam, who stood by cases of empty bottles, examining a bottle capper. “What do you think?” he asked his brother.

“Sure,” Sam nodded.

Dean walked over to the counter with the kit box in his hands. Sam followed with three cases of empty bottles and the bottle capper. The brothers put everything on the counter in front of Jerry. “What are we forgetting?” Dean asked.

“I think you’ve got everything you need,” Jerry said, perusing the counter. “Now that book is going to be very helpful, but of course you can find videos and stuff on the internets.” Sam smiled at the mistake.

The trio loaded up the Impala’s trunk with their purchases, then grabbed a bite to eat at a small diner. As they walked back out to the car, Dean tossed the keys at Sam, who caught them with a surprised look. “You get to play chauffeur, Sam,” he explained, then slid in the back seat next to Cas. Sam chuckled but said nothing as he adjusted the rear view mirror, catching a glimpse of the two holding hands like a couple of teenagers.

\----------------------------

 _Teenagers_ by My Chemical Romance played in Dean’s ears as he worked on Bobby’s car. The bunker’s garage was finally looking less like a museum and more like a place where actual automobile maintenance took place. Tool box shelves were currently open and the donor car was up on jacks. Dean leaned into the Chevelle’s engine compartment, adjusting the timing chain, when suddenly someone was up tight behind him, a hand pressed firmly against his back, holding him down. He instinctively panicked against the feeling of being pinned and vulnerable, but then the hand rubbed between his shoulder blades.

“My boyfriend is going to be pissed,” he said quietly, heart already pounding.

“Your boyfriend is the opposite of pissed, Dean,” came from behind him. Cas slid his hand up to the top of Dean’s shoulder and gently pulled his body closer while leaning in a little harder.

Dean closed his eyes and exhaled, excitement running down his spine, creating an instant hard on. He and Cas had been building up to this, circling around it, testing how close they could get. It was exhilarating and at the same time, the slow tease was exhausting. But it was working. Dean was so ready he could barely stand being around Cas without having his hands all over him.

Cas paused and when no resistance came he slid his other hand to Dean’s opposite shoulder, then moved both hands a little closer to Dean’s neck. He felt Dean shudder beneath him. “Today I have been thinking about what you said to me in the shower,” he whispered close to Dean’s ear. “The door is locked. We are alone and you are pinned to a classic car. I would imagine this is a fantasy you’ve had for quite a while.”

Dean smiled to himself and relaxed, trusting, but his mind still raced with the thrill of Cas’ erection pressed to his ass and hands so close to his throat. He shifted slightly and groaned at the feeling of his crotch against hard metal.

“Tell me what you want, Dean,” Cas commanded, grinding once into him.

Dean struggled to think. What _did_ he want?

“Tell me,” Cas repeated, softer this time, and squeezed Dean’s shoulders.

“Pull off my pants,” he croaked.

Cas pulled back, hands immediately around to the front of Dean’s jeans. He slowly unbuttoned and unzipped them, then pulled the denim down and helped Dean step out. He stood again behind Dean, hands resting on the waistband of Dean’s boxer briefs.

“Shit,” Dean said under his breath, staring at the Chevelle’s engine. He swallowed hard. “Move, uh, move me so I’m rubbing against the car,” he said hesitantly. He felt his face turn red and was relieved Cas couldn’t see it. Cas rocked against him, sliding him up against the driver-side fender. He gasped, arousal coursing through him at the sensation of cold pressure against his cock and Cas behind him.

“Put, uh... _shit_...put your hand on my throat,” Dean whispered. Quickly Cas’ strong fingers were back, gripping his neck with one hand but keeping the other firmly at Dean’s hip. “Oh fuck!” Dean almost sobbed. Cas continued to grind against him, over and over. The friction on his cock as Cas had him practically humping the car filled him with want, took him almost to the edge. Dean’s brain kept replaying Cas in the shower, thrusting into his hand. He was rock hard, imagining no clothes, just Cas finally on him, inside him.

“Your mouth, Cas,” he panted. “Please…” then he was turning, back pressed against the car and looking down at the top of Cas’ head. He felt hot breath over his crotch, then Cas’ hands pulling down his underwear and cool air on his leaking cock. Suddenly wet warmth surrounded him and his knees buckled just a bit. “Oh god!” he cried out, grasping for Cas’ shoulders. Cas' hands went to his hips, pinning him there.

Cas’ mouth was around him, moving and sliding, and Dean thought he was going to drown. Then Cas’ tongue circled the tip of his dick, lips bobbing there twice, three times, before taking him all the way down. “Fuck!” he yelled. “Again, Cas. I’m so close,” he begged, not caring how desperate he sounded. Cas obliged, sucking the tip this time before sliding down fast. Dean felt his cock against the back of Cas’ throat, rhythmic pressure all around, and his entire body tensed. He tried to push Cas back, but Cas was stone, immovable, as Dean shouted and came in the angel’s mouth.

Dean leaned back against the Chevelle, breathing heavily. Cas moved off him and looked up with a smile. Dean shook his head and said, “I’m going back to hell for that, aren’t I?”

Cas laughed and pulled the other man’s underwear back up. “Your soul is safe for now, Dean,” he said huskily, standing.

Dean reached for him, realizing he could finally kiss him. His hands moved immediately to Cas’ belt. “You do the most amazing shit to me, Cas,” Dean murmured into his mouth. “Unbelievable.” He had the belt undone and was working on the zipper when Cas’ hands were on his.

“Dean, you don’t have to…”

Dean stopped and looked at Cas, expression turning hard. “You listen to me, Cas. I know exactly what I _don’t_ have to do. If you don’t want me to, then say you don’t want me to. But don’t tell me what I want. I’m not going to let you fuck me out of some sense of obligation.”

They stood there, searching each other for understanding, until Cas put his hands up. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said.

Dean relaxed. “Imagine for a moment, Cas, that I want you. Because I do,” he insisted. “Cas, I love you, man. Don’t you know that? You’re the only person I…”

As he talked, Dean watched the expression on Cas' face change until Dean paused, confronted with the biggest smile Dean had ever seen on him; it was all gums and pearly whites, making little crinkle lines next to his blue eyes and pushing his nose up a bit. He reached up and placed a hand on Dean’s cheek. “Thank you, Dean,” he said affectionately.

“Cas, I want to be with you.”

“I love you too,” Cas replied. They stood facing each other until Cas slid both of his hands into Dean’s.

“I ruined the moment, didn’t I?” Dean asked with a smirk on his face.

“No. You most certainly did not. However, I want to kiss you. Can you remove my pants later this evening?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean laughed. “Just kiss me.”

\-------------------------------------

“Me! It was me,” Sam laughed.

“Of course it was you, you freakin jerk!” Dean shouted. He had Sam pinned, left arm behind him and knee in the small of his back. “Sam, _you_ bake a caramel apple pie, _you_ can eat the last piece.”

“Dude, it was delicious,” Sam admitted. “I know it was the last piece, but that just means that you need to make another one, right? Maybe I should just call you Little Debbie!”

“Are you shitting me right now?” Dean growled, trying to sound menacing. “Dude! Watch the beer! Please!”

“Get the hell off me, then!” Sam retorted, twisting to move away from the wheat ale currently fermenting in the white plastic bucket, air lock bubbling on a regular basis.

Dean released his brother and pulled him to his feet. “When I make a fantastic pumpkin pie,” he threatened, only half-joking, “if you eat the last piece, it will be the last thing you ever eat, capiche?”

“Right, right. So. When are you making a fantastic pumpkin pie, though?” Sam asked.

At that, Dean finally cracked. “How about when we get back from Sioux Falls?” he smiled.

Cas picked that moment to walk into the kitchen. He looked between the two, then calmly uttered “Dean.”

Dean turned and met Cas’ gaze, smile fading under the intensity of those blue eyes. Cas raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly and then left.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

Dean watched Cas go then slapped his brother in the chest and smiled. “Dude, I think I’m finally getting laid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://www.homebrewersassociation.org/how-to-brew/beginner/beer-ingredients/  
> http://www.whatsbrewin.org/why-brew-your-own


	8. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut with a small side of plot. Like a very small side. ; )

Laid out before Dean were all of the tools of the trade; familiar bottles and tubes lined the bathroom medicine cabinet like toy soldiers. “Breath,” he mumbled to himself, grabbing the toothpaste and his toothbrush. He scrubbed his teeth, brushed his tongue and spit into the sink below him.

Next he turned his head several times in the mirror, evaluating the level of stubble on his chin. He reached for the shaving cream and razor but then thought better of it. The last thing he wanted was to walk up to Cas with small bits of toilet paper stuck to his face. He quickly splashed on a bit of his favorite cologne, now feeling the time and getting anxious that Cas might think he was dragging his heels to avoid the obvious invitation he had made in the kitchen. He checked his reflection one last time, gave himself a confident wink, and turned on his heels to find the beneficiary of all this awesomeness.

He didn’t have to look farther than his own bedroom. “Hey,” Dean said from the doorway.

Inside, Cas turned. He stood by the bed, soft light from the 45-watt bulb overhead illuminating his features. They locked eyes as Cas slowly slipped out of his suit coat. He walked over to a chair to his left and casually draped it across the back. Without saying a word, he loosened his tie and pulled it from around his neck.

 _How does he make that so sexy?_ Dean wondered.

Dean stared, certain they could both hear his heartbeat as Cas slowly unbuttoned his shirt. The desire now swirling around them charged the air in the room. Dean’s only thought was _skin_ – how badly he wanted to see Cas, reach out and touch him, feel how smooth his skin was under his fingers. But he was rooted to the spot, watching as Cas untucked his shirt so he could continue to unbutton it, then casually add it to the growing pile of discarded fabric.

Cas looked down to unclasp his belt, then looked up to see Dean right in front of him, hands already helping as the door closed behind him. Dean slowly pulled the belt through the loops that kept it tethered, the leather making a slight zipping sound as Dean freed it. He planted small kisses at the base of Cas’ neck as he unbuttoned and unzipped, letting the pants fall to the floor. The smell of Cas’ skin, clean like the white bar of soap he sometimes used, filled Dean’s senses. His arms reached around Cas and pulled him close while he continued to nuzzle into his current favorite body part, the perfect little place where Cas’ neck met his shoulder.

There was something about being fully dressed yet holding a nearly-naked Castiel in his arms that excited Dean tremendously, but at the same time he felt so completely at peace – safe and content – that he thought he could stay right here forever. Thankfully Cas did the moving for him, gently leaning into Dean’s thigh so he could feel Cas’ erection. Just knowing Cas was hard for him kick started the adrenaline again and the need to touch took over. In response, Dean slipped his hand between their bodies, rubbing Cas over the light cotton that still covered him. He felt Cas’ breathing start to quicken against his own chest, so he was only slightly surprised when Cas stopped his hand to slide out of his boxers.

Dean stepped back to take in the sight in front of him. “You are so…” his brain searched for the right word but only one came to mind, so he said it. “You’re gorgeous,” Dean whispered. He was rewarded with a small smile. Dean’s hands started gliding over Cas’ shoulders and down his back, his fingertips reading the muscles and bones beneath them like a story written in Braille. He skimmed his hands down the angel’s sides, resting at those wicked hipbones to rub small circles there with his thumbs. “I still can’t believe we’re here, that I get this with you,” he said softly into Cas’ neck.

Cas’ hands were instantly around Dean’s face, pulling him up so he could stare into those clear green eyes, and then he kissed Dean with a steady intent that spoke of the affection and passion he felt. Dean opened his mouth and the sensation of tongues sliding against each other, tasting and discovering, lit up his skin, going straight to his dick. He pressed back into Cas and let out a small moan into the other man’s mouth.

Still silent, Cas steered Dean so he was sitting on the edge of the low bed and stood before him. Dean paused, letting out a small huff, and then looked up at Cas with a smile. He leaned down and licked the top of Cas’ cock, secretly proud of the slight shudder it caused. Dean reached out to hold onto Cas as he opened his mouth and slid his lips down Cas’ shaft. The solid, warm flesh felt satisfyingly heavy against his tongue, and he thought back to his earlier crack about those extra two inches. That was a lie.

Dean slid his hands around Cas’ back, down his ass and then gripped the back of each of his thighs, gently rocking Cas forward into his mouth. Cas exhaled slowly, eyes closing in pleasure, and slid a hand behind Dean’s head to steady himself. Dean relaxed into Cas, easing all the way down until his mouth was flush with Cas’ body and he heard a deep moan from above. He slid his lips up and down Cas a few more times before a hand gently stilled his movements. He looked up to see Cas lightly panting and staring intently down at him, so he leaned back and away.

“Dean,” Cas said quietly, “say that I can be inside you.”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean replied, his mind switching gears and suddenly filled with want. “Yes.”

Within seconds, Dean was on his back on the bed and Cas was stripping him out of his clothes. Dean chuckled lightly as he toed off his shoes. Cas had already pulled the t-shirt over Dean’s head and was working on his jeans. “Socks,” Dean reminded Cas, as he scooted his pants past his butt. And then Cas was there, pulling the jeans off completely and pressing his face against Dean’s hard cock through the soft cotton. “Shit,” he breathed again. Cas took that as a good sign and grazed his teeth against the outline Dean’s dick made beneath his underwear, sending shivers down Dean’s spine.

“Cas, you know what to do here?” Dean asked, afraid to slow things down but not sure if they had everything they needed or if Cas was ready too. He felt Cas slip away then return, pressing a small bottle into his hand.

“I will be careful, Dean. Just tell me if you want me to stop or change what I’m doing,” Cas responded, his hand rubbing against Dean’s thigh. Dean just nodded and dropped his legs a little, not quite sure what to do.

Cas couldn’t help but smile. He slid beside Dean, rolling him onto his belly, and started kissing Dean’s back while running his hands across the tan skin he loved so much. Dean sighed heavily, melting into the bed. Then Cas tipped Dean up on his side and put a healthy amount of lube in his own hand, snuggling up behind him. He reached over and gave Dean a firm, even stroke that sent Dean pushing against Cas’ chest. Cas slid his arm under Dean’s neck and continued to slide his hand up and down Dean’s cock as he kissed the shoulder in front of him. His own dick was hard as a rock and had started rubbing against the crease of Dean’s ass before Cas had even told it to.

“Oh yeah, Cas,” Dean breathed, rocking into the hand that stroked him while arching back into the hard erection behind him. He loved the feeling of being surrounded by Cas, yet the need to have him inside, to be completely filled by him, was ever present. “Come on, man,” he moaned. “Please.”

Cas bit into the skin on his shoulder and Dean shuddered. Cas eased him back on his stomach and slid down his body until he landed in a pool between Dean’s legs. He kissed Dean’s lower back as he gently pulled at a cheek and rubbed a slicked up finger against the exposed ring of muscle. He felt Dean tense up, so he continued making small circles until Dean relaxed, then eased his finger in.

Dean couldn’t help but squirm. It didn’t hurt but it certainly was a new sensation. Cas slowly slid his finger in and out, easing further in each time. Then he added more lube and another finger in the same manner. Dean felt that a little more, inching away from the slight burn. Cas stopped and waited, still kissing and licking the skin on Dean’s ass. But inching away had revealed the heaven of rutting his slick and hard cock against the smooth sheets. So he tried sliding up the sheets, then back against Cas’ fingers and groaned with pleasure.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said deeply behind him. “Keep doing that. Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” came the muffled reply.

“One more,” Cas cautioned. “Whenever you’re ready.” He added more lube and pressed three fingers against Dean, waiting.

Dean swallowed, slid into the sheet with a sigh, then eased back and let out a long string of vowels. He repeated the movement three more times, until he was almost fully seated on Cas’ hand. Then Cas was up behind him, cock against his ass and slicking himself up. “Okay?” he whispered. A groan answered him, so he lined up and slowly pressed in.

Squeezing his eyes shut and exhaling as Cas slowly sank into him, Dean let out a low moan that filled the room. Cas was holding onto him, panting at the feeling of being surrounded by tight heat. He pulled away then rocked deeply into Dean and they both groaned at the sensation. Cas found his voice first, quietly calling out to the man beneath him. Then he was rolling his hips, gently thrusting and almost overcome with pleasure.

Dean felt Cas’ dick fill his body it seemed almost up to his gut. His skin was tingling and he tried not to hold his breath. Soon the way Cas said his name and the rocking inside him became the focus of all his attention and he just let go. When he felt Cas pull him up by the hips and reach around to his throbbing cock, he threw his head back.

“Yes! Oh god, Cas!”

He had screwed a lot of women before, and made love to a select few, but Dean had nothing to compare this to. He shouted out loud the first time he thrust into Cas’ fist then swung back onto his cock. He tried it again, and this time, as soon as he moved into Cas’ hand again and back, he was gone, knowing he was fucking himself and Cas at the same time. Heat and pressure swirled up into his hips and he moved faster, the stretch in his ass becoming a singular line of pleasure that coursed through him.

Cas was so close, but he leaned against Dean and kissed his back, angling down to find that spot inside that he knew would push Dean over the edge. On his third try, Cas heard Dean cry out and felt him falter, so he threw an arm around his waist and gently pushed down against that spot until Dean was shooting cum onto the sheets. Cas felt every muscle around his cock contract and he yelled for Dean as he thrust in twice more before coming deep inside him.

They collapsed in a heap on the bed, panting together for a minute before Cas eased out and leaned his forehead against the other man’s back. Dean reached down to the floor and grabbed his t-shirt, handing it to Cas behind him. He kicked the messy sheet to the bottom of the bed, flipped onto his back and pulled Cas close, kissing him slowly. They melted together, enjoying the nearness of the other, until Dean felt his eyelids start to close. He tucked the angel against his body and drifted off to sleep.

\---------------------------------------

Sleep may not have been the right word. Dean dozed off for about two hours before waking to Cas slowly drawing figure eights around his left nipple.

“Hmmm” was about all he could manage.

Cas leaned over and licked it, then placed his mouth over it and gently chewed.

“Shit,” Dean hissed, arching into Cas’ mouth. Cas smiled, releasing the small piece of flesh before lightly sucking it into his mouth. Dean tried to move closer but Cas held his shoulder firmly down to the bed and shushed him. Dean’s dick gave a little twitch as he felt a small surge of adrenaline. God, he loved it when Cas pinned him. He pushed against it slightly just to feel the resistance.

Cas leaned up and kissed into Dean’s neck. “Don’t move, Dean. I’ll move you. Just tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” that gravelly voice purred into his ear. Dean let out a small moan and relaxed, then felt Cas’ hard cock against his thigh.

“Damn, Cas,” he murmured. “What are you, 18 or something?”

Cas just hummed against Dean’s neck, sliding in between his legs.

“I have to drive for six hours tomorrow…” he tried again.

“Sam will drive,” Cas replied, trailing his tongue down Dean’s chest, then leaning back on his heels to suck a small bruise into Dean’s hip. Dean writhed against Cas’ mouth, then gasped as his ankles were suddenly up on Cas’ shoulders, his ass actually off the bed.

“Cas! The…”

“Hush Dean,” Cas ordered, and then a slick finger was there, slowly easing inside and Dean groaned. Soon it was two and Cas was rubbing a flat palm against Dean’s belly. “Breathe,” he said firmly. Dean inhaled as Cas twisted his fingers around and reached inside to stroke Dean’s prostate, which sent him clenching down on the force inside him and arching into it, gasping.

“Oh God, Cas! Oh yeah!” he panted through each stroke. Dean thought he was levitating, every cell in his body rising through that glorious, intense pleasure. Then Cas’ other hand was on his dick, stroking him to attention.

In a fluid movement Cas replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding into Dean with a long moan. Dean pushed his head back into the mattress and cried out as Cas thrust into him. “Stay with me Dean,” Cas barked, and Dean’s head snapped back, eyes wide and locked onto Cas. “You alright?” he panted. Dean nodded quickly, breathing heavily as Cas released him, opting instead to move his body by his hips, trying a new angle with every thrust.  

“Touch yourself,” Cas demanded. “Come again.”

Dean whined but complied, his hand pulling in long strokes. He felt almost turned inside out, until Cas found what he was looking for and Dean screamed his name. Cas dragged his cock across that amazing place inside him, rocking faster and holding Dean as close as he could, their bodies flush together. Dean had forgotten everything as he gave into that feeling. He was going to come again. He didn’t think it was possible, but he knew it was happening. And then he felt Cas tense up.

“Now Dean! Now!” Cas growled. Dean gave two quick jerks and came hard as Cas shot inside him. They were frozen together, coming down, until Cas exhaled deeply and eased out of Dean. He climbed up Dean’s body and kissed him deeply.

“I love you,” he whispered around lips and tongues. “Dean, I love you.”

\----------------------------------------

“You ready?” Sam asked, looking up from his laptop as Dean and Cas walked into the library.

Dean’s duffel was slung over his shoulder, packed for the trip to Sioux Falls and a probate hearing tomorrow morning. No next of kin had come forward yet, so the brothers were optimistic that Bobby’s final wishes would be honored. In the meantime, Jody Mills would be meeting them at the courthouse and Dean had a list of parts he hoped to pick up at the salvage yard for the Chevelle.

“Ready,” Dean replied. He leaned over to Cas and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “We’ll call you when we get there. No point in you being cooped up in the back of the car for six hours.”

Cas looked at Dean with pure affection. “Dean, remember to hydrate,” he smiled. Dean chuckled, but headed to the kitchen for a water bottle.

Cas turned to Sam, said “drive safely,” then was gone.

When Dean returned, Sam stood and reached for his own bag.

“So?” he asked with a smile.

“Dude, I hope you don’t mind driving,” Dean chuckled, shaking his head and walking towards the garage.

Sam followed. “You not get enough sleep, Dorothy?”

“Yeah,” Dean smirked, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “That’s it. Not enough sleep.”

Three and a half hours into the drive Sam heard a familiar rushing of air. He looked into the rearview mirror to see Cas pull Dean onto his lap, arms draped around his waist as his brother sighed and leaned against the angel’s chest. Cas looked up and caught Sam’s eyes. He offered a smile, which Sam returned. Then the younger Winchester turned his eyes back to the road.


	9. Driven

Road-weary and tired, Sam pulled the Impala into the parking lot of the motel they planned to call home for the next three days. The place was small and old, with fewer than a dozen rooms split into two low buildings. It was a little run-down; desperately needed a fresh coat of paint; and quite frankly, set Sam at ease immediately. He considered the bunker their home base, but after decades of being on the road, motels like this felt so familiar. It was situated closer to the salvage yard than the courthouse, but there were several decent restaurants nearby. He parked and turned off the engine.

Behind him, Cas brushed his lips against Dean’s temple and softly said his name. Dean roused himself, realized he was lounging against Cas in the back seat of his own car, and chuckled. He scooted off the angel’s lap and sheepishly caught his brother’s eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Sorry, Sam,” he mumbled, opening the door and awkwardly climbing out. “I’ll get the rooms,” he added, walking towards the motel office.

Sam eased his tall frame out of the car, twisting to stretch his back after so many hours behind the wheel. He turned to Cas, who was doing the same. “So, you guys look like you’re doing okay…” he started, hoping for a little insight into the state of things. He really hadn’t talked to Cas much about it, but Cas was his friend and he wanted to check in.

Cas turned and grinned. “Sam, I believe we are doing better than that.” He paused, and then looked Sam in the eyes. “It’s more than I ever thought I would have with him. I feel very…blessed.”

“Has he told you that he loves you yet?” Sam asked in a low voice, watching Dean through the motel office’s large glass window as he talked to the attendant and signed in. “Because he does, you know. I’ve never seen him this happy, man. You guys are really good together.”

Cas followed Sam’s gaze. “Yes, Sam, we have discussed our feelings for each other.” He then added, “I love him as well; however you probably already know that. And thank you.”

“Well if you need anything, let me know. Dean can be an ass most of the time, although lately, not so much.” He turned back to Cas. “I’m guessing that’s because of you.”

“I think you give me too much credit, Sam,” Cas replied, smiling as Dean strode across the parking lot towards them. “Dean has grown as a person quite a bit.”

“You’ve been talking about me,” Dean smirked as he approached the car. “Quit checking me out in front of my little brother,” he said playfully, nudging Cas out of the way with his shoulder so he could reach in and grab his duffel bag off the back seat.

Cas looked at Sam and then glanced down and slapped Dean’s ass.

“Cas!” he yelled, almost hitting his head on the car. “Jesus, man!” he said as his face turned beet red.

“Please tell me we’re in separate rooms,” Sam laughed.

“Separate ends of the building, Sam,” Dean assured him, tossing him a room key.

“Hey, I asked Jody, uh Sheriff Mills, to meet me…I mean us, for dinner tonight. If you guys are up for it,” Sam said over his shoulder, clearly not as nonchalantly as he had hoped for.

“Really?” Dean replied, wagging his eyebrows. “I like it! Do you want us there or not Sammy?”

His younger brother stopped and considered. Jody had never met Cas and it might be good to have Dean there to keep things normal. But on the other hand, he was really hoping to spend some time alone with her, to re-connect, or connect, or whatever.

“Tell you what,” Dean offered, sensing Sam’s inner struggle. “We’ll all have dinner. She’s expecting us, right?”

Sam nodded.

“Okay,” Dean continued, “and then after dinner, Cas and I will bail and you two can stay for some alone time. Glad I got the two rooms,” he snickered.

“Dean, it’s not going to…”

“’Lighten up dude and stop taking things so seriously,’” Dean mimicked back to his brother, a smile spreading across his face. “Come on, Cas. I need a shower.”

\-------------------------------

Shower and a shave later, Dean was feeling much more energized. He checked himself in the bathroom mirror and then walked over to Cas, who was sitting at the head of the bed reading _Tom Sawyer_. Dean had to admire his perseverance. “What part are you at, Cas?” he asked, trying to read upside down.

“Huckleberry Finn is following Injun Joe, who wants to cut a woman who was married to a man who wronged him, but is now dead,” Cas replied. He looked up, concerned. “This was a children’s book, Dean? And I understand that Tom Sawyer’s guardian was an older aunt, but was she really completely oblivious to his activities? For a child, he seems to be out in the middle of the night too often and exposed to many dangerous situations. It appears he needs more stringent supervision.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” Dean laughed and sat down on the bed next to him. “But then I thought about how old I was when my dad handed me a shotgun, told me to watch my brother, and then left us in a motel in Scranton for a week.”

Cas’s gaze softened and he reached a hand out to Dean’s knee. “Twain’s story is fictional, so I suppose my concern is unfounded. He certainly has captured the essence of a young boy of that time.” He paused and smiled. “How are you, Dean?”

“Me? I’m good, man, apart from an entirely new kind of ‘sore.’ I spent a couple of hours sleeping on a human pillow and now I am clean and smell like springtime. What do you think?” He offered his neck to Cas, who grinned and leaned in close.

Cas breathed in and found the smell of Dean’s skin just as advertised, but along with that was the amazing scent that was just the man himself. “I am concerned that I may have asked too much of you last night,” he said softly as his lips skipped over the crook of Dean’s neck.

“No,” Dean said quietly, relaxing into the sensation of Cas’ breath on his skin. “I am certainly learning new things about myself, though,” he chuckled. “I can’t wait for you to feel some of that too.”

“I look forward to it, Dean” Cas murmured, kissing up the length of Dean’s neck, then reached out to pull him closer.

“Slow down there, Romeo,” Dean smiled. “We have dinner still and an important mission: ‘Operation Sody.’” He planted two feet firmly on the carpet then held out a hand and helped Cas up.

“I don’t understand. What is ‘Operation Sody?’”

Dean put a hand to Cas’ back and led him outside where Sam was already waiting by the Impala. “It’s Operation Sam-slash-Jody. You know, ‘Sody,’ like both of their names together. Like they’re a couple, Cas. Let’s see if we can help Sammy look good in the eyes of the fair sheriff.”

“I see,” Cas nodded. “We will tell her how brave he is and that he would be a good husband and protector.”

“No, man,” Dean chuckled. “She’s law enforcement. She doesn’t need a protector. Oh, and she lost a husband and a son, so try to avoid talking about Sam being a good husband for now. She knows we’re hunters, by the way. She’s seen some crazy shit, but you’re going to be her first angel.” Dean couldn’t help but smile at how that sounded.

“What’s the game plan, Sam?” Dean inquired as they all climbed inside. “Cas wants to tell Jody about how brave you are and that you would be a good husband. What do you think?”

“No! Cas, no. Just, be yourself. Don’t worry about making me look good,” Sam said hurriedly.

“But I thought that was the point of Operation Sody,” Cas said, confused.

“Operation what?” Sam craned his neck to look at his brother, who was grinning widely. “Dean, seriously, knock it off!”

“Don’t worry, man. We’ve got your back,” Dean teased, shaking his head. He punched Cas lightly on the shoulder and said in a stage whisper for Sam’s benefit, “Keep it down, Cas. Just remember we have to tell the most embarrassing stories possible.”

“Dean, tell me more about her husband and son,” Cas insisted.

Twenty minutes later they pulled up to a steak restaurant that looked like a giant log cabin. The place was packed and the parking lot was at capacity. They circled the lot a few times, and then decided to park down the street. As the trio made their way to the restaurant, Dean interlaced his fingers with Cas’. Cas glanced down and smiled broadly.

Sheriff Jody Mills stood to the left of the entrance in a blue cotton dress. Her brown hair had grown out to her shoulders and she seemed lighter, happier, since Sam had seen her last. Her eyebrows lifted slightly when she caught sight of them, her look inquisitive, until it traveled to Sam. Her attention never strayed until they were all standing together.

“Hi there,” she smiled up at him.

“Hi to you,” Sam replied, returning her smile with one of his own.

“Who’s your friend, Dean?” Jody asked, eyes still caught in Sam’s until she managed to tear them away.

“Jody, this is Castiel,” Dean said. “He’s my…boyfriend.”

She looked at Dean appraisingly, and then gave Cas the same treatment. “Interesting,” she replied. She held her hand out to Cas, who paused before shaking it in his own.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, sheriff,” Cas offered.

“He’s also an angel,” Dean added in an offhanded way.

“I’ll bet,” she laughed.

“No, he’s actually an angel,” Sam admitted.

Jody looked at him, doubtful. “An actual angel?” she asked. There was a time when she would have continued to laugh the comment off, however her experience dealing with the Winchesters had taught her many things, including the need for an open mind. Jody studied Cas more closely. Cas simply smiled back at her.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “An actual angel.”

“How does Dean get so lucky?” she laughed, shaking her head.

Sam opened the door for her, looked over her head to his brother, and said “Hell if I know.”

After they had finished their meals, Jody steered the conversation towards the hearing tomorrow. They discussed what Sam had discovered, mainly that Bobby’s estate had been put into intestate probate proceedings upon his death since no will had been produced. The state was still in the process of trying to find surviving beneficiaries or heirs.

“So there _was_ a will,” she marveled, shaking her head. “How did you know?”

The brothers exchanged looks but when they hesitated to answer, Cas decided to respond. “I asked him,” he explained.

Jody turned to Cas and blinked, then looked from Sam back to Cas. “Because you’re an angel,” she said slowly, “and you can talk to dead people?”

Cas shrugged.

She leaned across the table slightly. “And Bobby’s in Heaven. What, what is that like?” she asked.

Cas looked at the brothers and felt Dean give his leg a little squeeze before returning Jody’s gaze. “Bobby’s heaven is very soothing for him. It consists of his home, for the most part, a radio and a newspaper. He is quite happy.”

“ _His_ heaven?”

“Yes. Every soul has its own heaven,” he replied. He again looked at Dean, who nodded slightly. “I do not wish to upset you, sheriff, but if it brings you comfort, your late husband and son share a heaven in which they spend a spring morning at a park with a see-saw and a blue swing set.”

The table went absolutely silent. Jody could only stare at Cas, her eyes wide. After a few seconds, Sam put his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. That brought her back and she exhaled quickly. She swallowed, and then looked down at Sam’s hand on her own. “Thank you, Castiel,” she whispered. She looked up at the angel, and then cleared her voice and regained her composure. “Thank you.”

“Hey, uh, Jody if it’s okay with you, Cas and I are going to head out,” Dean said lightly, trying to change the subject and give them some space. “Do you mind giving Sam a ride back to the motel when you guys are through?” He stood, and Cas followed suit. “It was really great seeing you again,” he smiled.

“You too Dean,” she said. “You seem very happy. Looks good on you.” She shifted her gaze to Cas. “Nice to meet you Castiel,” she added, a slight smile on her lips. Cas nodded back to her. As the pair started walking away from their table, Dean grinned as he heard Jody say, “You brought an angel to dinner. Smooth move, Winchester. Smooth move.”

\--------------------------------------------

“Move, Cas,” Dean whimpered. “Please?”

The two had lost little time once they returned to the motel now that there were so many things that each felt he needed to try, see and do to the other. Cas had spent the last 45 minutes exploring the sensation of gently applying his teeth to virtually every square inch of Dean’s body as well as cataloging Dean’s reactions. And Dean hardly believed the noises Cas seemed to pull from him. He couldn’t remember if he had ever been reduced to a begging heap in the bedroom like this. The feeling of being completely at the mercy of so much strength yet adoration was dizzying.

Above him, Castiel looked like a vision. Raw emotion danced across his face – utter bliss, white hot desire and complete connection. His intense, blue eyes searched into Dean’s and found the love and the bare, exposed need they held, all of it just for him. It stopped him in his tracks and took his breath away.

“ _Please_ ,” Dean whispered, his hands gripping Cas’ arms tightly.

Cas nodded, desperate to commit this to memory so he could forever remember exactly what it felt like to be this close to Dean, surrounded by him. But he couldn’t ignore Dean’s pleas and gently started rolling his hips. His body moved almost without being told how, as if pleasing Dean was part of its DNA. Cas thought of the surf. He would be constant and steady. Unstoppable.

Dean’s eyes fell closed for a moment and his breathing steadied as he concentrated on what Cas was doing to him. Cas was leaning in close and the heat radiated off of his body in a way that Dean was certain he could feel in his pores. It was so warm in the room; he felt a thin layer of sweat cover his skin. Cas panted into Dean’s ear, and little moans he didn’t know he was making found their way to Dean, traveling down his spine.

But without a doubt, Dean was amazed at how complete he felt with Cas inside him. Any hesitation he may have still had about being vulnerable like this was now completely gone. He could feel Cas in his bones.

“Cas,” he moaned. “Fas…”

“Let me,” Cas breathed. “Let me do this for you.”

Dean nodded and gave in, feeling the urgency for friction and heat and _more_ in his core, but breathing out and trusting Cas to give him what he needed. Cas pulled Dean flush up to him and shifted from deep to an upward motion, ripping a loud moan from Dean before he could stop it. Then Cas moved just a little faster, rolling his hips rhythmically and rubbing against that amazing spot inside Dean over and over.

“Cas, _oh God_! Don’t stop!” Dean choked out, bucking up to Cas to keep him right there. His skin was crackling, nerve endings inside and out thrumming, and it was glorious. He felt the windup as heat pooled low in his gut and quickly started building. Cas kept pace, never wavering. Dean lost track of time, secretly hoping this feeling never stopped, until something shifted and then he couldn't go on another second.

“Shit!” Dean gasped. He stretched towards Cas, who found his lips and kissed him deeply until Dean broke away to gulp for breath. “I’m gonna come, Cas!” he cried out, and then his head arched back into the mattress and everything was hot, white release. Cas continued rocking into him, chasing down his own orgasm. Within seconds Dean felt Cas’ body tense up against him and heard Cas groan as he emptied inside of him.

They breathed together for a solid minute. “You are fucking fantastic, Cas,” Dean panted, immediately laughing at his own joke. He felt Cas’ chuckle inside his body and instantly grinned. Cas eased himself out and plopped next to Dean on the bed, sliding his fingers through Dean’s hand. Dean raised their hands to his mouth so he could run his lips across Cas’ knuckles.

“How much time can I have, Cas?” he asked playfully.

“Is two hours enough?” Cas smiled at the ceiling.

“Make it three, then we can take a shower together,” Dean replied. Within 10 minutes, Cas heard Dean’s deep breathing and knew he had fallen asleep. He started a mental timer and closed his eyes as well.

\----------------------------------

“Well, based on the evidence provided, the state of South Dakota finds that the notarized last will and testament of Robert Singer provided by Sam and Dean Winchester is valid. Intestate probate proceedings are hereby ceased and the decedent’s estate will now be managed by Sam Winchester, hereby named as personal representative of The Estate of Robert Singer.”

The gavel bounce felt solid and final, and with it, the foursome could only smile at each other. Sam scooped them all together in a group hug that he could tell made Cas feel slightly uncomfortable. They headed out of the room.

“I, for one, am in need of a celebratory cheeseburger,” Dean grinned. “Whadaya say, sheriff?”

Jody smiled. “I completely agree!”

Twenty minutes later they had all squeezed into a booth at Applebees. “So, what’s next for you boys?” Jody asked in between bites of her Oriental chicken salad.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. “Uh, right now I’m restoring Bobby’s Chevelle,” Dean answered, “But I’ll probably be coming up here a couple of days a month to work on cars and then resell them.” He shot Cas a quick look of amusement as yet another French fry disappeared off his plate. “Cas, seriously, get your own.”

“Dean, I do not want my own,” Cas replied. “Have you tried dipping these French fries in ranch dressing? It is very good.” He held a fry out to Dean who tried to shake him off. Cas was persistent, however, and merely held out the sample until Dean took it with a sigh, thankful that Cas hadn’t decide to feed him at the table. It was good, so Dean nodded and dunked another fry into a small red cup of ranch dressing in front of Cas. Cas smiled.

Jody gave Sam a sly glance that said “they like this all the time?” Sam returned it with a look of unending suffering.

“Dean,” he said pointedly.

“Yeah?” Dean answered, handing a dipped French fry back to Cas.

“You were saying?” Sam prodded.

“Yeah, sorry. So maybe we’ll be seeing you more regularly, sheriff,” Dean added.

“That might be nice,” she said, smiling at her iced tea. Sam turned a slight shade of pink above her.

\--------------------------------------

“Her spark plugs are fine, Ellie!”

Dean had noticed the car off on the side of the road on his way back from the salvage yard. The hood was open and a young man who couldn’t have been more than 21 stared menacingly into its belly. It was a 1969 SS Camaro painted primer gray, and it looked like it had decided to take up permanent residency on E. 18th Street. Dean wanted it.

“Howdy, folks,” he called out from a few yards away. “You need a hand?”

The owner looked around the hood to Dean. “You know about cars?” he asked.

“I know a little,” Dean replied. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, man,” the kid responded, obviously frustrated at the car’s inability to tell him why it had stopped.

Dean considered the Camaro for a second. “I could take it off your hands if you’d like to sell it,” he offered.

“At this point, I’ll just give it to ya,” the boy spat.

“Oh no you won’t! You better get at least $2,000 for this car!” his wife hollered from the passenger seat.

Dean’s heart did a somersault. This car in completely crappy condition would be worth $10K. “I’ll tell you what,” Dean said evenly. “I have a salvage yard about two miles from here. Let me go get my tow truck. And I don’t want to see such nice young folks in this situation, so to be fair and because I’m in a very good mood today, I’ll give you…” he paused for dramatic effect, “$2,500 for the car. Then I’ll drop you guys wherever you’d like. Sound good?”

The missus nodded to her husband, smug in her negotiating abilities.

An hour later, Dean was heading back to the motel with his new purchase secured to the back of the tow truck and a smile a mile long.


	10. Fulfillment

“Long-distance relationships can work, Sam, they just take patience,” Dean counseled as he dropped a box of dried spaghetti in a large pasta pot. He watched the water inside boil up through the noodles, turned down the heat just a tad, and then returned his attention to the meat sauce he had been stirring. He checked the burner’s setting and replaced the glass lid.

“I have seen you be a very patient person,” Cas called over his shoulder. He stood beside Dean, taking in the numerous events happening concurrently on the stove in front of him.

“Make sure the water doesn’t boil over,” Dean murmured, handing Cas a black, plastic spoon designed specifically to wrangle spaghetti. Cas was, to Dean’s great joy, currently wearing his favorite AC/DC t-shirt and jeans. He affectionately rubbed Cas’ shoulders as he moved the angel to face the pasta pot, then sighed and turned to give Sam his full attention.

“You guys hit it off okay?” Dean asked.

Sam sat at the kitchen table looking alternatingly pleased and forlorn as different thoughts flitted across his mind. He allowed himself a small grin, looking down at his beer and absentmindedly scratching at his jaw. “Yeah,” he answered. “She has this way of seeing through bullshit and getting to the heart of things. She’s really perceptive.”

Sam’s last comment trailed off as he relived his conversation with Jody at the restaurant after Dean and Cas had left, and their continued conversation on the car ride back to his motel. At 12:30 am, when they finally ran out of things to say, they stopped putting words in the space between them and dipped a toe into what they were both feeling. Her kisses had been warm and a bit hesitant at first; by 1:00 am they had changed to passionate and forceful. Sam was hooked.

Dean nudged Cas behind him and nodded at Sam. Cas grinned at Sam and then his brother, leaning close to Dean’s ear and whispering, “Don’t tease him, Dean. You often have that look yourself.” Then he lightly kissed Dean’s neck and returned to his pot.

Dean snorted and said loudly, “Well I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that ‘perceptive’ is just one of her better qualities. My guess is that she sees through _your_ bullshit, Sam. She’s a good match for you, man. I hope it works out.”

“Me too, Dean,” Sam replied, slowly shaking his head of the memory.

They were clearing dishes when Dean’s phone went off.

“Yeah?” he answered. After a few seconds he looked up at the others with a smile. “It’s still available. All original badging, 1969 Camaro SS with a new alternator and battery.” He nodded, listening. “It runs great.” He stood and headed to his room. “I can meet you at the Pizza Hut in Smith Center. What time?” Again Dean concentrated on the voice talking to him as he opened the door to his bedroom and glanced around. “Yeah, I’m firm at $15K, man. And I’m coming from Lebanon, so please don’t plan to dick around, no offense. I don’t need to waste the time or the gas. I’ve been getting a lot of calls on her.” After another pause he reached for his keys and his jacket and returned to the kitchen. “Okay. Bring cash. I’ll have some friends with me. See you then.”

He looked up, smelling garlic, basil and cash flow. “Guys. Road trip?”

Dean and Cas took the Camaro while Sam drove the Impala. The transaction went smoothly. A 40-something dad and his 20-something son drove the car around the block with Dean in the back. The Camaro, true to Dean’s word, behaved perfectly.

“You’ve got some room here to pretty her up just how you want,” Dean explained. Dad nodded, understanding that at $15K this was a good deal; with a little body work, new paint and upholstery this car would be worth $25K easily.

“I brought $14,000 cash,” Dad said. “What do you say?” Dean pretended to think about it. He nodded, pocketed the cash, passed the keys and signed over the title.

He shook Junior’s hand. “Take good care of her, bud.”

“Is the Impala for sale too?” the kid asked.

“Dude, not for a million bucks,” Dean laughed. “That used to be my old man’s car. But you hold onto this baby and clean her up, and you’ll have something special for your kid someday.” Dad nodded in agreement and shook Dean’s hand.

As the trio watched father and son convoy out of the parking lot, Sam clapped Dean on the back of the shoulder. “First satisfied customer!” he congratulated his brother.

“No longer hustling pool. It’s the end of an era,” Dean said proudly. “Let’s go to Jiffy’s and get some pie.”

\---------------------------------------

“Pie crust dough, two cups of pumpkin puree, three large eggs, one-and-a-quarter cups of packed dark brown…are you writing this down, Dean?” Irritated, Sam looked up at his brother and glared.

“Hey!” Dean confronted him, fumbling with his journal, “I’m sorry, researching pumpkin pie recipes is now beneath you? You were begging for this pie two weeks ago. Keep your panties on while I get to the right page.”

Sam alt-tabbed back to the article he found about a mysterious death in Des Moines. He was already wondering if Jody would drive four hours to meet him there. God, he hoped so. He sneaked his cell phone and sent her a quick text.

“Okay, hit me,” Dean piped up. He caught a glimpse of the big baby tapping away and sighed heavily. Dean placed the gold ribbon bookmark on the current page as Sam completely forgot that they were having a conversation. On a whim he turned the journal upside down and opened it from the back cover. He thought for a moment and wrote “Things That Fulfill Me” at the top of the page. He had been on this journey for only three months now, but ideas came fairly easily.

**1\. Family**

When he wrote that one word, Dean immediately thought of Sam, Cas and Bobby, but he realized that his feelings for Cas seemed bigger than that. Their relationship wasn’t just about extended family anymore. He deserved his own line item.

**2\. Cas**

Then he smiled to himself and added **(in jeans)**.

**3\. Being in nature**

He thought for a moment.

**4\. Honoring memories**

There was no pressure, from himself or anyone else, when Dean worked on the Chevelle. Every time he touched that car he remembered something ridiculous that Bobby once said or another time he saved Dean’s ass. He would spend as much time as necessary to bring it back to its former glory because it made him happy to do it. He smiled thinking about Cas giving Bobby progress reports.

**5\. Food of Love**

Jerry had used that phrase in the homebrew shop and Dean thought it was spot on. The beer wasn’t done yet but that didn’t matter; it was about the process. It was about pouring your heart into making good things for the people around you. Like the damn pumpkin pie if Sam would just… _focus, Dean_.

**6\. Giving up control**

Dean took a big breath and stared at those words. This was all about trust. He and Cas had been through some real shit together. He had royally pissed Dean off before when he wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t take his advice, pushed him away. But “big picture,” Cas would never hurt him, would willingly die for him. And Dean? He was always in control, forever protecting the people that he loved and being the big brother. Now, as he and Cas moved into some amazing uncharted territory, Dean was more than happy to hand over the reins. It was…freeing. When he gave that to Cas, let Cas move him and touch him, Dean felt safe and loved like he had never felt at any other time in his entire life.

He sighed, thinking about how grateful he was. He imagined Cas’ face, eyes only half open, above him. A little smile played at the corner of Dean’s mouth as he thought about staring into those big, blue eyes as Dean eased into _him_ real slow. Cas would moan his name and wrap those strong hands around his back. He imagined Cas’ lips parted, taking shallow breaths as Dean fucked him all tender at first, and then Cas would want it harder, whisper that he needed more. Dean would believe him because Cas was a soldier and he would want to know where that line between pleasure and pain... Dean blinked and stole a look over at Sam. _Holy shit, where did that come from_? Dean silently eased his hand down to rub against the growing pressure in his jeans.

“Sam,” he said, swallowing hard and trying to compose himself. “Are we going to do this now or what?”

“Hmm?” Sam muttered, his eyes scanning the messages on his cell phone.

“Print the damn recipe, dude. I’ve got something I need to do.”

He found Cas sitting on his bed reading again, this time _East of Eden_. Cas looked up as the door closed. He gave Dean a quizzical look, noticing the unsettled expression on his face. “Hello, Dean,” he said, closing his book.

Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he set his journal on the ledge behind Cas’ head. He wondered why he was so anxious about this. It’s not like there were any rules or he had signed a waiver or something. He sat on the edge of the bed, sliding a hand onto Cas’ thigh. “I want you, Cas,” Dean said quietly. “I wanna feel you all around me. Can I do that? Is that…”

“Yes,” Cas said, eyes dancing as he reached out to hold Dean’s face and bring him close.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, his excitement growing. He leaned into Cas’ hands, pushing him into a kiss as he started climbing onto the bed, then groaned as Cas licked into his mouth. That tongue was going to kill him one day, Dean was sure of it. “Damn,” he breathed, pulling his overshirt off then reaching for Cas’ waist. Dean pulled him up so they were both on their knees and facing each other, hips flush together. He hugged Cas tightly and started sucking wet hickey kisses into the exposed flesh of Cas’ neck, leaving little marks on his skin. Would they stay or did angel grace make even hickeys vanish?

“Dean,” Cas rasped and closed his eyes.

“You are so good to me,” Dean said fervently, sliding his hands under what was actually _his_ t-shirt and up Cas’ back. “I’m gonna make this so good for you,” he whispered into Cas’ skin. Their mouths found each other again, tongues moving. Dean felt himself getting even harder as his mind whirred with all the possible things he could do to Cas, do for him. He would pull out all the stops – show Cas all the ways he could please him. Then he flashed on the journal and changed his mind.

“Tell me what you want, Cas. Tell me what you want so I can give it to you.” Needy hands pulled Cas’ t-shirt up and over his head, then reached behind his own back and liberated his as well. Dean practically threw them across the room.

“I want to feel you stretched out against me like in the shower, Dean,” Cas whispered.

“Fuck, yes,” Dean panted. “Up against the wall, baby, or on the bed?”

Cas pulled back. “Dean, I am not a baby,” he said heatedly. “You call your car ‘baby.’ Pick another word.”

Dean stared at him then chuckled. “Fair enough, _sweetheart_. Is that better?”

Cas paused, considering, so Dean grabbed Cas’ dick through his jeans. “ _Focus, Cas!_ Wall or bed?”

“Wall!” Cas practically yelled, eyes wide.

“Better,” Dean growled. He smiled and said, “Sorry, man, you’re just making me crazy right now!” Then they were all hands again, trying not to rip the denim off each other.

The sense of urgency in the room immediately rose to DEFCON 3. Dean leaned over to his right and snagged the lube out of the top drawer of his nightstand, keeping an arm around Cas’ waist. It would have been torture to not be touching him right now. Somehow he managed to gently lead Cas off the bed and position him facing the wall, palms against the brick. He grabbed the pillow and tossed it at Cas’ feet.

Cas looked over his shoulder, expecting to find Dean there. It took half a second to realize Dean was actually kneeling on the pillow in front of him, back to the wall and eye-level with a particularly sensitive part of his anatomy. A small smile formed as he looked down at Dean below him.

Dean tried for a sultry look and a wink, which got a laugh and a bigger smile. Then he squared his shoulders and said, “Move into my mouth Cas, like in the shower. Just go slow, K?”

Cas nodded and the smile was replaced by a hungry expression that sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He opened his mouth and placed his lips around Cas, resting his palms against the back of Cas’ thighs. The angel rocked just barely into Dean’s mouth, gasping slightly. He looked straight into Dean’s eyes, asking for approval without saying a word. Dean responded with a squeeze and a gentle tug, giving Cas permission for more, so Cas moved a little deeper. Dean rewarded him with a hum of agreement.

As far as Cas was concerned, Dean’s mouth on him was one of the most amazing sensations he had ever felt and he moaned as he watched his cock slide in and out of Dean’s lips. The fact that Dean trusted him enough to let him do _this_ made his heart feel like it wanted to jump out of his chest. Because he was concentrating on rolling his hips ever so gently so he could feel his dick slide over Dean’s tongue, it took him a few seconds to realize that Dean had moved a hand up the back of his thigh and had rested it on his ass. He was thrilled and terrified in the same instant, his stomach fluttering with anticipation. He tried to calm down, shifting his stance so his legs were a little wider.

Dean waited until Cas closed his eyes again before discreetly squeezing some lube onto his finger and rubbing it up and down the crack of Cas’ ass. Cas stopped for two complete Mississippis before breathing in and out slowly and resuming his steady pace of fucking Dean’s mouth. Dean could feel Cas willing himself to relax, and when he did, Dean went on the offensive, taking as much of Cas as he could while at the same time easing a slick finger into that hot, tight space. Cas let out a small shout and his entire body tensed. For a second Dean wondered if Cas was about to be done right here, but instead Cas started moving again. Dean smiled around the cock in his mouth as he slowly moved his finger in and out. One finger slowly became two, and two became three. All the while, Cas moaned Dean’s name over and over and Dean never wanted that to stop.

He had learned so much during the times they had been together so far, first and foremost being how incredible it felt when Cas touched his prostate. That’s number one on this hit parade. So Dean stretched his finger and rubbed against a wall of muscle until Cas shook and threw back his head, eyes wide. Dean added a little more pressure, but that ‘little more’ was electric to Cas, who practically shouted Dean’s name and lost his footing. Dean pulled off of Cas and looked up with a smile. “Easy, easy,” he chuckled, immediately backing off and instead lightly stroking his finger against that one spot. Cas, in turn, gasped for breath and stared incredulously into Dean’s eyes as if he was witnessing the birth of a continent. Now that he thought about it, Dean supposed that Cas was experiencing something he never had before. And he, Dean Winchester, had just given that to a bajillion-year-old angel. _Hot damn._

They had a perfect little rhythm going now. Cas had melted into his touch, open and accepting. Dean suddenly wanted nothing more than to slide into Cas and press every inch of his warm skin against Dean’s own. He gently removed his fingers and wiped them on his thigh, then slipped around Cas’ legs so he could stand behind him. Dean leaned his forehead against Cas’ back. God, he desperately wanted this to be everything Cas was hoping for and more. _I’ve got this_ , he reminded himself. This was home turf, right? Just a little different topography. He quickly lubed up his dick before sliding it across Cas’ hole, feeling Cas lean back into him. Just like in the shower, Dean placed both of his hands next to Cas’ on the brick wall and continued to skim across Cas’ rim until he felt a familiar tremor.

“Cas?” he whispered against the shaking form in front of him.

“Please,” Cas somehow managed to get out.

Dean dropped his hands from the wall and hugged Cas to him, planting kisses on every available inch of his shoulders and upper back. He exhaled sharply, trying to remember how many years it had been since he had “deflowered” a virgin (18, maybe?). _Go slow, nice and easy_ , he repeated to himself. He liberally applied more lube, placed a hand on Cas’ hip and barely pushed in. Cas shook once, tensing around Dean, who was at that point incapable of moving until Cas decided to relax. Cas then dipped his head and exhaled, releasing Dean’s cock, so Dean groaned and eased in another inch or so and paused. He continued to kiss Cas’ back and murmur small praises.

“It’s okay,” Dean soothed. “You feel so good, Cas. Are you alright?”

“Yes, keep going Dean,” Cas urged.

Dean continued his slow descent, gently pushing and pausing, until he was flush with Cas’ body and breathing heavily onto the back of his neck. He leaned his weight against Cas, resting his cheek against the angel’s back, and thought he had never been this close to another person in his life.

“Cas…” he whispered, almost in awe. He curled his toes into the carpet, waiting for a sign.

“Move,” Cas whimpered. Dean scooted them both up just enough so he could return his palms to the brick on either side of Cas’ hands. He was surrounded by smooth heat and Cas was _tight_. Dean lost himself for a moment as pleasure coursed through him. Then he slowly rocked in and out.

“Yes,” Cas breathed, his head falling back onto Dean’s shoulder. Cas was almost hot to the touch. Beads of sweat had appeared in the small of his back and behind his knees. He was completely unprepared for the intensity he felt as nerves across his body seemed to set fire to his skin. If he wasn’t bracing himself against the wall, he would have certainly collapsed by now.

Behind him, Dean tried to keep his thrusts shallow and continued to whisper. “Love you, Cas,” he said softly. “Right here for you.”

Cas moaned a string of vowels in reply. Feeling stretched around Dean, filled by him, was unbelievable. Cas felt utterly overwhelmed, both physically and emotionally. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was just outside his grasp. He found a moment of clarity and choked out “Need. More.”

Dean smiled, went deeper and picked up the pace. _God, that was good_. Just that much more and everything felt familiar and fantastic. “Like that, sweetheart?”

Cas nodded, panting now. They moved together and Dean had a hand on each of Cas’ hips, pulling him into every thrust. Cas was muttering something that Dean couldn’t make out and for some reason he thought it was incredibly hot that Cas had forgotten himself and was probably whispering in dead languages. He reached around and swiped his palm over Cas’ leaking cock before stroking him in time to his hips. Cas groaned loudly and dropped his head, eyes closed.

He was getting close now, but Dean couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing Cas’ face when he came like this, because Dean was going to make damn sure that Cas came _hard_. “Need to see you, Cas,” he panted. Cas nodded and Dean let go, easing himself out and producing a distinct shiver across Cas’ skin. He guided them both back to the bed.

“Relax,” he said softly, kissing Cas into the sheets. _Oh this was perfect_. Cas’ tongue was back in his mouth and they were breathing the same air. He broke away so he could finally see Cas’ glazed expression as Dean slid back in where everything was warm and strong and felt like home. “God, you’re so amazing,” he panted. He moved Cas’ legs around his hips and leaned in, and this was where he wanted to be. He found their pace again and smiled as Cas dug his head back into the mattress, arching into him and moaning. “Feel good?” he asked.

“Yes. Oh, Dean it’s… I can feel you in my toes,” Cas whispered, his voice deep and thick. “We should do this all the time.”

Dean actually laughed at that. “Absolutely. We’ll take turns, huh?” He got a happy nod in reply. Dean kissed Cas’ collarbone as they moved together, then moved down to suck on a hard nipple. Every shudder underneath him sent a wave of pleasure through his core. “Ready, Cas?” he asked as he nipped at any available piece of skin.

“Hmm?” was all he heard.

“Hold on. Let’s see what you think about this…” Dean shifted his hips and slowed just a bit as he searched for the right angle. Cas opened his eyes and smirked, realizing what Dean was after. His expression turned hopeful and he squirmed to help. Suddenly he arched and slammed his hands into the bed.

“There!” he practically yelled.

An open-mouthed grin took over Dean’s face as he watched Cas’ body writhe under him. He remembered not to push too hard as he concentrated on grinding against Cas’ prostate. Instinctively he grabbed one of Cas’ hands and slid their fingers together. Cas was chanting a litany of yeses and squeezed Dean’s hand so hard his knuckles were starting to turn white.

“Come on, Cas. Let go. I’m right here.” Dean encouraged. “Want me to touch you?” Cas stared at him and nodded, unable to form words, so Dean released Cas’ hand and reached between them to stroke Cas’ very hard and throbbing dick. Cas moaned, long and loud, and Dean felt that down his spine.

“Shit!” Dean panted. He started jerking Cas in earnest now. “Show me. I want to see you,” he begged.

Those words unlocked a door for Cas. He cried out, clenching down on Dean’s cock and shooting long, white stripes up his own belly. Then he sucked in air and collapsed against the bed. Dean immediately rocked them both back on his heels and thrust deeply, coming with a heat that pulled tight through his body and burst out into Cas below him.

Dean sat there, panting and gently rubbing circles into Cas’ hips. His eyes lowered and warmth spread through his chest. _God I love you,_ he thought, smiling as Cas’ eyes found his. Dean was fairly certain he had never seen anything as gorgeous as Cas in this moment. He leaned down and kissed him tenderly.

He whispered, “Let’s do this all the time.”


	11. Possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a bit of sub!Dean and dom!Cas towards the end with a blindfold and rope play.

Time was not on Dean’s side. A perfect storm was about to make landfall and Dean was sure that the S.S. Winchester was going down.

First there was the beer; it needed to be bottled, like yesterday. Unbelievably, Sam was losing his shit about the holidays – _the holidays_. He also had a new car for sale and managing calls had officially become work. Finally, Dean was having serious misgivings about signing up for his first online class.

 _What the hell was I thinking?_ He didn’t have time for any of this. At least he had the foresight to buy his own laptop after he sold the Camaro. He could now spare Sam the embarrassment of Pinterest boards for pie recipes, car restoration tips and light bondage (Cas had turned out to be one _kinky_ bastard). He was on Open Culture, talking himself out of pulling the trigger on Coffee Break Spanish, when Cas leaned down and kissed the back of his neck.

“Oh thank God you’re here,” Dean said, relief pouring off him. He reached out for Cas’ hand and pulled him onto his lap. Cas smiled down as Dean leaned his head into Cas’ chest. “I have so much shit to do and _Sam_ has decided to curl up in the fetal position because Jody wants him to meet her family for Thanksgiving. Tell me you’re here to wave your hand and make all this crap go away.”

“I am at your disposal, Dean,” Cas replied. “What can I do to help?”

Dean hummed, slipping his arms around Castiel’s waist.

“What can I do to help that involves remaining clothed?” he asked with a light chuckle.

“That’s no fun,” Dean teased. “But I need to bottle the beer. Can we start there?”

“Certainly,” Cas responded. “Where is your brother?”

“Skyping his girlfriend,” Dean smiled. “He thinks he can bribe her into skipping ‘Meet the Parents’ if he throws some puppy dog eyes. He’s so screwed!”

Cas tilted his head, then reached in his trench coat and pulled out his cell phone. Dean twisted to watch as Cas pulled up Messages and started typing.

“Whatcha doin?” Dean asked.

Cas continued tapping and then paused. A responding text flashed on the screen and Cas smiled broadly. He closed his phone. “You have just volunteered to make a pecan pie for Sheriff Mills’ Thanksgiving dinner.”

“What?! Shit, Cas!” Dean shook his head.

“Dean, you wanted to make a pecan pie anyway,” Cas chided him. “And now your selflessness has earned you an invitation to dinner.”

“Wait, I have to meet the parents too?” Dean asked incredulously. “Dude, how is this at all good for me?”

“You’ll be helping your brother, Dean,” Cas said affectionately. “Perhaps he will help _you_ to show his gratitude.”

“I hope there’s candied yams with marshmallows,” Dean muttered under his breath.

Cas turned, catching a glimpse of the laptop’s screen. “Are you signing up for a college course? Is that why you’re so tense?”

Dean sighed, feeling the rise and fall of Cas’ chest against his cheek. Of all of the items on his bucket list, the online class caused Dean the most anxiety. Yeah, it was free and it wasn’t like he wouldn’t graduate if he didn’t pass it or anything, but everyone kept talking about helping him so they were going to be on him about it. Besides, he wasn’t Sam. There was a real concern that he was going to spend a bunch of time and end up looking like an idiot.

“Respira, mi amor,” Cas soothed.*

“Exactly,” Dean protested.

“Dean, stretching is one thing. Don’t do this if you don’t believe you will enjoy it. You’ve waited this long. It can wait a little longer.”

“Yup,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean,” Cas said sharply.

Dean looked up.

“It can wait.” Cas held Dean’s eyes, his stony expression daring Dean to argue.

Dean felt a little twist in his gut and realized he was holding his breath. The smallest of smiles played at the corner of his mouth. “You did that on purpose,” he whispered.

Cas’ eyes twinkled. “I still mean it. Let’s take care of the beer. Then I will take care of you.”

\---------------------------------

“You got it, Cas?” Dean asked. “This should be easy. I’m going to fill a bottle, hand it to you. You put the cap on it, use the capper to crimp it down, and then put the bottle in the case.”

Cas nodded.

Dean had watched the same video four times and knew the process cold. He and Cas had worked together to properly sanitize everything, so all of the bottles and tools sat ready on the counter. He had also picked up a few more items off the internet, including an auto syphon and a bottling wand. He was officially the Homebrew Wizard. Dean wondered if maybe he should have made butter beer.

The earthy scent of hops and grain filled the kitchen as he transferred the beer from the glass carboy back into the fermenting bucket. Damn if this brew didn’t look fine – a clear, golden amber that made his mouth water. He couldn’t wait to taste it.

At the stove, Cas added priming sugar to a pot of boiling water, mixing it until it dissolved. Once Dean had transferred all the beer, Cas added the sugar water. Dean gently stirred everything together.

“Cas, get me a beer out of the fridge, would ya?” Dean asked. “This is making me thirsty.”

He cracked open the Miller High Life, smiling as he imagined that this would be the last time he’d buy someone else’s beer. Sam appeared in the doorway, drawn down the hall by the aroma. Dean addressed the room with outstretched arms and said, “Let the games begin!”

The bottle wand was awesome. Beer started shooting into the first bottle as soon as Dean pushed the spring-loaded tip against the glass. He raised the wand, quickly analyzing the syphon’s speed, and then pushed down again. Once the bottle filled and Dean moved on to the next, Cas leaned down to grab it and placed it on the counter. He crimped a cap over the top and twisted to put it back in the now-empty case but instead found a grinning Sam with an outstretched hand. The Winchester Brewery Assembly Line was complete.

“I could make some cool labels to put on these bottles,” Sam offered, placing the first one in the case. “How about 'Winchester Wheat-ies’?”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Dude, that’s awesome. We can bring some to Thanksgiving dinner if they drink.”

Sam grinned. “Thanks, man.”

“Anything to get you laid,” Dean joked. “Seriously, you’re making me feel bad.”

“’Cause Thanksgiving is all about getting laid,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head.

“I would imagine you would be very thankful, Sam,” Cas offered.

The brothers both stared before laughing loudly. Sam slapped the angel on the shoulder. “Good one, Cas.”

Within 40 minutes they were done and cleaning up. “How long do you need to wait before you can drink one, Dean?” Cas asked, wiping down the counter. Sam hefted the first case. He was taking it to one of the back rooms so it would be in a dark and cool spot until it was ready.

“It says the longer the better,” Dean answered, reading a page from the home brew book. “I would say two weeks at the least.”

Cas nodded as he calmly rinsed out the sponge. Once Sam started down the hall and was out of ear shot, Cas walked over to Dean and stood an inch from his face. “You will have to wait for more than the beer for the next two weeks,” he said quietly.

Dean looked at him, shocked. “What? Are you serious?” That didn’t sound good at all. “Why would you…”

“No orgasms for you for two weeks, Dean. Let’s make sure you have something to celebrate when you open that first bottle.”

About seven different emotions flitted across Dean’s face in the space of two heartbeats, the last one being resignation. _Fuck. Or no fucking. Crap_.

Cas watched the scene play out and then smiled when Dean finally exhaled and slightly nodded. “Good.” He leaned in close and breathed into Dean’s ear, “We will start tomorrow. Think about what you want tonight.” Cas waited until Sam rounded the corner and could see them to add, barely loud enough for him to hear, “I suggest rope.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up, eyes taking in how close the two were standing and the look on Dean’s face. Dean tried unsuccessfully not to groan out loud as Cas calmly walked out of the room.

“Did he say…” Sam started, incredulous.

“Sam! Just…” Dean held up a hand to stop his brother from saying another word as he closed his eyes and tried to breathe through his nose.

“I really do need to get laid,” Sam muttered, turned on his heels, and quickly strode out of the kitchen.

Dean shook his head and thought, _That son of a bitch is trying to kill me_.

\--------------------------------------

“Me? I don’t know, man,” Dean said. The two brothers sat in the library as Dean yet again stared at his laptop.

“Yes, you, Dean,” Sam insisted. “I mean I don’t want to put any pressure on you.”

Dean couldn’t help the eye roll at that point.

“Dude, seriously. I don’t want to pressure you, but you sell yourself short,” Sam maintained. “There’s no reason why you couldn’t get an Associate’s. All the classes you need for a General Education AA degree are online. Why not take a class that you can apply towards that?”

“Because the whole point is to stretch, Sam, not to break,” Dean said wearily. “Look I appreciate the vote of confidence, I really do. But I am not you, man. I don’t have what it takes to do it. I am good with my hands, I am not good with my…”

“ _ **Enough**_.”

Both men looked up abruptly. Cas hadn’t been standing there seconds ago, and now he was all but yelling across the long table, his trench coat swaying behind him. He tried to compose himself. “Dean, have you ever taken a college class?” he asked.

“No,” Dean answered.

“Then you _don’t_ know that you don’t have what it takes. Period.” He paused. “If I told you that I can see your future and it includes a Business Associate’s degree from Kansas City Community College, would you believe me?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “No. First, you don’t see into the future. Second, why would I waste my time doing that? I don’t need a degree.”

“Fine,” Cas shrugged. “And when you are buying, fixing and selling 25 cars a year; employing two mechanics and a bookkeeper; and have ads on local TV stations, do you think you might need a business degree?”

Sam arched his eyebrows at Dean, a smile creeping across his face.

“What are you saying, Cas?” Dean demanded.

“I am saying,” Cas said, lowering his voice, “that whether you believe you can do it or not, the _fact_ is that you can. In _fact_ , Dean, you could be a very successful business owner. Whether you start with a Spanish class or English 101 at the community college, you can earn a degree in business. Furthermore, the _fact_ is that you are capable of so much more than you think.”

The two men locked eyes and Cas’ gaze softened. He walked over to where Dean sat, pulling up another chair to face him, and leaned forward. “I know all of the infinite possibilities of Dean Winchester, and this is one of them,” Cas added.

Dean mulled that over. He had never really allowed himself to think that he could be successful academically. “Is there a possibility where I flunk out and don’t earn a degree?” 

“Yes,” Cas replied. Dean shot him an I-told-you-so look. “There is also a possibility where you change your major to Elementary Education, continue with your Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees, and teach 4th graders until you retire at 63.”

A stunned look took up residency on Dean's face and was about to sign a six-month lease. He had honestly _never_ considered teaching kids. Cas reached out and placed a hand on Dean’s knee. “And you love it, Dean. It makes you incredibly happy.”

Dean searched Cas’ eyes, looking for the truth, then turned to Sam, who shook his head and stood. “Dean, you’re freaking out over Coffee Break Spanish. You’re a superhero, man. A somewhat tragic, pie-baking, beer-brewing, superhero who killed monsters. So quit talking yourself out of it.”

Sam clasped a hand on Cas’ back as he made his way out of the room. He didn’t even turn around as he called out over his shoulder, “And no one knows how to slip a knot like you do!”

“Sam!” Dean yelled, lightly laughing. He wiped a hand down his face, shaking his head, and then slid his fingers through Cas’. A light smile tugged at the corner of Cas’ mouth, and his expression turned fond. Dean looked into his best friend’s eyes, reaching up with his other hand to trace the outline of Cas’ jaw. “Teaching kids?” he whispered.

“It fulfills you, Dean,” Cas smiled, as Dean leaned in for a kiss.

\----------------------------------------

“Kiss me.”

The command was deep and rough around the edges, a thousand shards of glass. It spoke of miles of wanting, centuries of need. It was most certainly a demand, but Dean knew that voice now and heard somewhere in its depths a small plea. Lips lightly brushed against his own, and warm breath caressed his skin. Dean pressed forward and stifled a groan as the lips pulled away from him. He longed to chase after them but knew his efforts would be futile. If only he could see where those lips had gone or could reach out and touch them.

But everything was darkness behind the blindfold. He had considered straining to make things out through the fabric but realized quickly that being deprived of the ability to see only heightened his anticipation, had him straining to hear where Cas was in the room and trying to pick up his scent as he moved by. His nerves would blaze when Cas touched him, so lightly that he probably wouldn’t have noticed it two hours ago. But right now, Cas was lightly blowing cool air against his neck and goosebumps erupted across his skin.

It was a delightful break, but within seconds Dean’s focus returned to the safety of the rope. His arms were behind him, wrists bound together by a silky cord that kept them still without putting too much strain on his shoulders. But there was a slight burn as the muscles fatigued and he concentrated on that sensation. He breathed in and out with it, measured time against it and found himself almost lulled to sleep by its constant presence. It enveloped him like an embrace.

The room was warm and dark. Dean kneeled on the bed, naked with his legs tucked beneath him, his dick mostly hard even after an hour of sensory deprivation. He felt a bead of sweat slowly travel down his back. Cas placed his pointer finger between Dean’s shoulder blades and firmly pushed, causing Dean to fold on himself. Cas slowly trailed his finger through the bead of sweat until it skimmed the crease of Dean’s ass.

Words of praise intermixed with small demands kept Dean from completely drifting. “You are perfect, Dean,” Cas said reverently. “So trusting and open. So obedient and respectful. An amazing gift, just for me.”

A warm hand caressed Dean’s outer thigh and he instinctively leaned into it. Then he was being gently tipped forward until his cheek rested against the soft sheet and his ass elevated. Dean sighed, straightening his back and sinking his head further into the mattress.

Hot breath skated across the cleft of his ass and it took everything in Dean’s power not to moan out loud. Cas wanted Dean to practice restraint and control. Not a sound was allowed unless Dean needed to use a safe word. Of course he had no intention of doing that. The silence was a trifle; after everything Cas had given him, it was Dean’s pleasure to provide that in return. He concentrated every effort into making Cas proud of him.

Now there was a coolness, which must be lube, and the gentle pressure of…not a finger but instead a thumb as it made small circles against his exposed hole. He exhaled as the digit barely pushed into him and then slowly moved in and out. The sensation was electric as all the nerves there lit up and his body instinctively grabbed. It was complete anticipation, and Dean thought of the beginning of a roller coaster ride when the chain grabs the car and pulls it, lurching, up to the first crest. But he willed himself to relax, to concentrate on the rope, and to let Cas do whatever the hell he wanted. He breathed out his through his nose and heard Cas groan as his thumb slipped in deeper with no resistance.

“Perfect…” Cas murmured. “Do you want more, Dean?”

It was a test. Dean didn’t move or say a word.

Cas removed his thumb and suddenly Dean was completely alone. He couldn’t feel Cas’ body heat at all. He panicked for half a second but remained completely still. If this is what Cas wanted him to experience, then that’s what would happen. He thought of the comfort from the ache in his shoulders, imagined that the warmth in those muscles was Cas’ body against his back, his arms around him, keeping him grounded and safe. His dick, completely hard now and aching, twitched.

Dean had no idea how much time had passed. He didn’t feel lonely or exposed because in his mind, Cas was right there, warm and solid. He blinked several times under the blindfold. In fact, he might have actually dozed off, now that he thought about it. Then warm hands were caressing his ass, running up his arms and across his shoulders. He relaxed even more, comforted by Cas’ touch.

The cord loosened and then was gone. Strong fingers moved his arms to his sides and began to massage his triceps and biceps. He felt slight tremors but they quickly stopped. Cas eased him onto his side and then his back, stretching out and massaging the stiff muscles in Dean’s legs, but ignoring the blindfold.

“Such an amazing man,” Cas whispered. “You were so good Dean. I am so proud of you, so proud.”

Gratitude, relief and adoration surged through Dean so fiercely that it took him a second to collect his thoughts and realize that his cheeks were wet. But Cas was there, kissing the tears on his face and nuzzling into Dean’s neck. “Relax, Dean. I will take very good care of you. You can say whatever you like now. I want to hear you. Just remember to ask before you come.”

The next thing Dean felt was a rush of warm and wet over his throbbing dick and he actually sobbed out loud. Cas moved Dean’s legs apart and slid between them, all the while rhythmically sucking Dean’s cock. His strong hands glided up Dean’s thighs to his hips and back down again.

“Oh Cas!” Dean moaned, breath catching in his chest as tears continued to roll down his cheeks. Dean was so exhausted that he couldn’t move. He was so thankful for Cas’ hands pushing against his skin, keeping him from floating to the ceiling. He wanted desperately to move into Cas’ mouth and use his body to show his appreciation as Cas continued to soothe with his hands and please with his mouth. But then Dean considered this a final act of obedience, completely surrendering his body to Cas and actually feeling every emotion as his senses were flooded – all except sight.

He shuddered, nerves raw as words he couldn’t even identify fell from his lips. Dean didn’t care, tried not to think about the sobs and the waterworks he couldn’t stop if his life depended on it. His orgasm didn’t hit him hard or come screaming through him. Instead, he was in the first car of that roller coaster ride, watching himself get closer and closer to the clouds.

“Cas! Can I?” he gasped and Cas nodded around his dick, reaching for Dean’s hands and holding them tight as a long wail broke through and Cas’ mouth was flooded with Dean’s warm and salty release. Cas swallowed it down, gently sucking Dean through the aftershocks before moving up to collect Dean in his arms. They rocked together and Cas held him close, kissing his forehead and cheeks as a few remaining tears fell. Then Cas gently removed the blindfold and kissed his eyelids as well. He waited as Dean’s breathing calmed.

“I don’t…” Dean whispered. “You…”

Cas shushed him and kept rocking.

“Don’t ever leave me, Cas. Please. I couldn’t bear it.” Dean said softly. It would have killed him to say those words, to admit that he needed so badly, at any other time or to anyone else. But not now. “You’re…” Dean sighed heavily. “You’re a part of me. I feel like I’m not right, I’m not whole, until you’re with me.”

“Dean, I’m right here,” Cas replied. His voice was like a lifeline; Dean grabbed it and instantly felt safe. “I will always be here for you. I love you, Dean. Without question, and unconditionally, for the rest of your life.”

Dean relaxed and knew he was floating again, but the smile never left his face and he dreamed of white cirrus clouds in a blue Kansas sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Breathe, my love"  
> Beer brewing tips - https://youtu.be/hO974evrM5Y


	12. Gratitude

Sky blue upholstery would be one option, or perhaps cream or black. Dean clicked through color choices on the car restoration website he found yesterday, looking for something that would play up the pearl coat in the convertible ’64 Mustang’s midnight blue paint. He found the car in a back corner of the salvage yard and was amazed at how little work it really needed apart from new glass, some light body work, tires, rims, paint and upholstery. The mechanical work had only been in the transmission.

It was mid-October and this would be his third flip. He already had this baby sold, an exciting new twist on his business model. The client had left the aesthetics to Dean and put down a 50% deposit. He would clear about $15,000 if he kept to his budget.

Sam had set up the LLC, Winchester Autoworks Limited, DBA Angel Auto. It was so cheesy but Dean couldn’t resist. Apparently being in a committed relationship was turning him into an even bigger sap than Sam. His brother had laughed out loud for a good three minutes when Dean first pitched it, but then found an awesome, edgy logo*, designed the business cards, and found a website developer who took his fledgling company to the next level. He couldn’t be more proud. So yes, the practicality of a business degree was becoming more obvious.  He was talking to an admissions counselor on Thursday.

“Which do you like best?” Dean asked, turning the laptop to face his brother across the table. “I’m leaning towards the blue, actually.”

Sam quickly clicked through the color options and furrowed his brow. “I like the blue as well,” he said, returning to his own computer screen.

“Whatcha working on?” Dean asked.

“Uh, Jody’s birthday is coming up and I’m thinking of a weekend getaway. Maybe in Steamboat?”

Dean smiled. He was really impressed with how well things were working out between the sheriff and his brother. They talked a couple of times a week, texted about as regularly, and made time to see each other at least once a month. She was a busy lady, but Sam was happy to work around her schedule and tried to help out on hunts in her general area when possible. And lately, Sam didn’t seem quite as closed off as he had been. He smiled more often and took things in stride. That was all Jody.

“When’s her birthday?”

“November 4th,” Sam answered. “Hey, we can rent a condo for the weekend with a kitchenette and get ski passes. That sounds nice, right?”

“Definitely,” Dean smiled. “You could make her a birthday dinner.” He looked over at Castiel, whose nose had been stuck in a book for the last hour. “Hey Cas, when’s your birthday?”

“Hm?” Cas grunted, his attention still fixed on _The Call of the Wild_.

“Babe, when’s your birthday?”

Cas looked up at that, a bit of a challenge in his eye, which was why Dean had chosen that particular term of affection in the first place.

“Just kidding, sweetheart,” he smiled.

“I don’t have a birthday,” Cas replied, returning to his book.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. “Really?” Dean asked.

“My Father created me when the earth was still young, eons before humans and their calendars,” Cas explained casually, his gaze still on his reading material.

 _Well that made sense_ , Dean thought. But still, Cas had been walking around like a human for a while now, and birthdays are one human experience that Dean kind of felt everyone should enjoy.

“Do you want one?” he asked.

Cas raised his head and blinked. “One what?”

“Do you want a birthday, Cas?” Dean prodded. “I think you should have one. Everyone should have a day when people bring you cake and presents and basically are nice to you for no other reason than because you survived another year.”

Cas looked at Dean and then Sam, who was considering him with interest. He realized that in their line of work, or Dean’s previous line of work, surviving to your next birthday was probably a major accomplishment. “If it’s important to you, Dean, then I wouldn’t mind having a birthday.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “Good.”

\------------------------------------

“Good news is that if you go with the General Education AA degree, it can be applied towards a Bachelor’s at any state school and most private schools, Mr. Winchester. If you want to earn a Business Associates, you’ll still need many of the same general education classes, but you’ll also be taking business courses that will help you run your company better.”

Dean looked at the pretty girl across from him and sighed. “I can take all of these classes online?”

“Yes,” the admissions counselor answered, her pony tail bobbing behind her.

Dean considered his options for a moment, and then leaned forward. “What about you? Do you have a degree?”

“I do, Mr. Winchester,” she smiled. “I attended KCKCC myself and earned a Pre-Nursing Associates. I’m taking classes at KU right now for my BSN, which is a Bachelor’s in Nursing. But I loved my time here and I think everyone should go to college, if they can.” She leaned towards Dean and added, “There’s so much to discover, Mr. Winchester. We should never stop learning, stop challenging ourselves, don’t you think?”

She smiled at Dean, and if he didn’t know better, he would have thought she knew exactly what he had been up to this year.

“One more question,” Dean inquired. “What if I wanted to teach at an elementary school?”

\-------------------------------------

School was going to be a real thing, and Dean’s head was swimming with it. It was easy before, when there was no way it was going to happen for him and frankly, he could have cared less. But ever since Cas planted that seed and convinced him that there was a future where he could be successful at it, a degree was all Dean could think about. Which was stupid, because Dean had a lot of other things to think about.

He walked back to the tall Husky toolbox and pulled out a wrench, then returned to the Chevelle. The car was coming along nicely. In fact, he should have it ready for paint next week. It was going to be beautiful – shiny silver with black Le Mans stripes, chrome trim, custom rims, and black leather interior. He lay back down on the red creeper and scooted under the car.

Staring at the underside of an automobile was about as familiar to Dean as digging up caskets and loading salt rounds. His mind started moving in the opposite direction of his hands, and there was school again. Thank God he could take classes online because that little girl at the college made him feel about 1,137 years old. At least online no one knew how old you were unless you told them. You could be as anonymous as you wanted to be. Of course, that’s how most 48 Hours and 20/20 episodes started.

Dean still wasn’t sure where he wanted to end up, so the plan was to start in the fall with one G.E. class, just basic Psychology, which he could apply towards any of the three degrees he was considering. One class was manageable. It would take about 15 hours a week, and he should have 15 hours. He would be reading and doing online discussion posts and writing papers. His chest tightened and he felt the anxiety start. _Easy, Winchester_ , he thought, breathing deeply. _Inhale for four…and exhale for four…_ he chanted to himself. Then he realized what he was doing and chuckled out loud. Apparently he was getting even more out of letting Cas tie him up naked than awesome orgasms. _Life Lessons through Light Bondage, an essay by Dean Winchester_.

His mind drifted back to the Elementary Education degree. Teaching kids makes him incredibly happy, according to Cas. He wondered why that would have been a road he would travel if Cas hadn’t brought it up. He rolled out from under the Chevelle and stood. Dean liked kids as long as they weren’t screwing with his car and they always seemed to like him. Even taking care of Sam as a baby hadn’t been all that bad, he had just been thrown into it as a kid himself. So, yeah, Dean wouldn’t mind being around kids, might even have fun hanging out with a bunch of 10-year-olds all day.

Particularly since it looked like kids of his own weren’t going to be in his future.

Dean didn’t even notice when the wrench hit the floor.

\----------------------------------

“Floor it,” Dean said, goading Cas on.

Cas looked at Dean questioningly. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea, Dean? I don’t think I should…”

“Floor it, Cas,” Dean repeated, a grin spreading across his face. “This is going to be a long drive. Let’s make sure she’s ready.”

“If you insist,” Cas said, shaking his head mischievously. The Chevelle lurched forward as Cas stomped on the gas, the big block 454 engine roaring like a wild animal. Dean threw his head back and laughed, watching Cas’ face. He was enjoying every second of this.

“Beat’s the hell out of the Lincoln, right?” Dean yelled over the din as the car chewed up the two-lane asphalt road, brown prairie zipping by.

“Jesus!” Sam shouted, laughing as his body slammed back into the leather seats. “There’s fucking pie and beer back here, Cas!"

For his part, Castiel held tight to the steering wheel, laughing down the highway. He stole a glance at Dean, whose eyes locked with his. Cas was struck immediately by the absolute joy radiating from those amazing green orbs. He offered Dean the biggest grin he could and quickly returned his focus to the road, letting Dean’s happiness wash over him.

The trip to South Dakota was uneventful, apart from Sam’s quiet anxiety and hourly text messages. They stopped at a Dairy Queen for double cheeseburgers and vanilla shakes, and took turns putting the Chevelle through its paces. The car garnered appreciative looks whenever they stopped for gas. In fact, Dean handed out four business cards over the course of six and a half hours.

They pulled up at Jody’s house close to 5:00 pm. She stood at the front porch of her two-story suburban home in jeans and a sleeveless, white eyelet shirt. Her arms were crossed under her chest and a light smile played at the corners of her mouth as she leaned against a painted wood post. “Nice ride, boys,” she called as the car doors opened and three grown men poured themselves out of the car.

Dean and Cas both started stretching, twisting to relieve tight muscles. Sam had other ideas.

Ignoring everything, he walked straight to her. Jody dropped her arms as he climbed the steps and pulled her close. Without saying a word, he leaned down to kiss her, loving the feeling of her hands on his back. He smiled and she took that as an invitation to tilt her head slightly and show him exactly what an “I missed you” kiss should feel like. Sam groaned softly into her mouth, letting her in, as her hands slid around to hold his face, thumbs softly rubbing along his jawline.

“’Squse us, pardon us, coming through…” Dean teased as he led Cas past them and into the house.

“Dean, we don’t know which room…”

“Don’t worry, Cas. We’ll just head to the kitchen until they cool off,” Dean replied loudly. “Oh, crap.” Dean tiptoed past the pair again, heading back out to the car. He returned, carrying a cooler, offering an apologetic, “Don’t mind me, like I was never here,” as he passed by.

Jody chuckled in Sam’s mouth and slowly pulled away. “Not very subtle, is he?” she joked, pulling Sam’s shirt down and smoothing it against his chest.

He gently caught one of her wrists and brought it to his mouth, kissing the soft skin and feeling her pulse against his lips. “Nope,” he murmured, looking into Jody’s eyes.

She sighed and looked at Sam fondly. “Reign it back, tiger,” she whispered. “You’re not taking me on the porch here. The Neighborhood Watch will have a field day.” She ran her fingers through his long brown hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Come on inside,” she added. Jody held Sam’s hand, leading him through the house to the kitchen, where Dean was already rearranging her refrigerator to accommodate the pie and the homebrew. Cas sat at the kitchen table, looking up as the pair entered.

“Hi there Castiel,” Jody said warmly.

“Sheriff,” he replied, smiling at her and Sam, who was self-consciously raking his hair away from his face.

“Dean, please, make yourself at home,” she teased.

Dean stood, closing the refrigerator door, and reached over for a sideways hug. “Will do, sheriff. Uh, do you have any iced tea?” he asked, glancing at Cas, whose grin doubled in size.

“Fridge, blue pitcher,” she informed him, opening a cabinet to pull down several glasses. Dean returned to the refrigerator and removed the pitcher, setting it on the table in front of Cas. Sam sat as Dean and Jody took turns using the ice maker.

“So what’s the plan?” Sam asked, pouring tea into ice-filled glasses as they appeared before him.

“Well…” Jody started, sliding a sugar dispenser onto the table and then leaning back against the kitchen counter. “The main event starts tomorrow at about 11:00 am at my folks’ place. My sister Shelly and her son Josh will be there too.” She took a glass of tea from Sam and passed it to Dean. She shook her head at Cas, who was already drizzling a steady stream of sugar into the glass in front of him.

“Cowboys or Lions?” Sam asked. “Just want to make sure I’m asking about the right game.”

“Cowboys, unfortunately,” Jody smiled.

“Hmmm,” Cas hummed to himself.

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas looked up from his tea at the faces staring at him. “America’s Team, correct? Staubach, Aikman, Sanders.”

“Cas, you a Cowboys fan?” Dean asked incredulously. _How do I_ not _know these things?_

A smile spread across his face. “Why is that so surprising?”

“You guys get the game upstairs?” Jody laughed.

“Yes,” Cas replied, adding, “This is very good tea.” He looked puzzled as the room suddenly filled with laughter, then smiled over his glass at Dean and winked.

A few hours later Jody and Sam were tangled up on the big sofa in the living room, laughing at the plot holes in a police drama. Dean and Cas found themselves sitting in Jody’s backyard, light from the kitchen gently spilling onto the back porch. Cas sat on one step and Dean on the step below him, resting back against Cas' chest. A good smattering of stars twinkled in the night sky. The evening had turned cool, but neither seemed bothered by it.

Dean leaned forward to take a swig of beer, then relaxed back, allowing Cas to absent-mindedly rub his arms as they rested on the angel's thighs. “I don’t need them, you know,” Dean said quietly.

“Need what, Dean?” Cas asked, admiring the constellations above him.

“Kids.”

Dean felt Cas still behind him. He paused. “I never thought I would have a family, Cas. Hell, I never thought I’d live to see 30. But I just want you to know that _this_ , this is what’s important to me. Maybe I’ll be an uncle. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll teach 4th graders instead.” He turned to see electric blue eyes peering into his. He gave Cas’ leg a squeeze. “I just want you to know that I’m not giving anything up. I’m getting so much more than I ever thought I would. Deserve even…”

Cas leaned down and kissed him, and that amazing warm calm seeped into his bones. He pulled back.

“Cas, I want to make a home for you. I want a home with you and I want you to stay. Will you stay?”

A dazzling smile and a nodding head and then kisses. Everywhere kisses.

\---------------------------------

Kisses became the evening’s theme. The pair said their goodnights to the sofa as they headed upstairs, and as soon as they were out of eyesight Cas had Dean turned around and facing him, wet and sloppy kisses generously applied to his collarbone. Then unbelievably, he hoisted Dean around his waist and carried him, their lips still pressed together, up the steps. Dean actually giggled. “You’re making me feel like a girl, Cas,” he whispered jokingly to hide his embarrassment.

“Shut up,” Cas smiled back.

More kisses.

“Tell me,” Cas urged, looking down at the top of Dean’s head as he leaned up on his elbows.

A warm, wet tongue lazily traced patterns on his stomach, dipped into his belly button, and then kissed his hips. Dean raised his head then crawled slowly up Cas’ body, pressing him back down. He rocked his hard cock against Cas’, pausing at the sensation before collecting himself and whispering softly. “I’m going to fix Bobby’s house, Cas. I’m going to rebuild it, and you and Sam are going to help me, and when it’s done, it will be our place. Our home.”

Cas moaned. It could have been from the promise of “together” or the electric feeling of Dean hard and rubbing against his own erection. Probably both.

“I’m going to build you a bee hive, you crazy bastard,” Dean chuckled in Cas’ ear before sucking an earlobe into his mouth. “And a garden, if you want.”

He could see the smile on Cas’ lips even as Cas squeezed his eyes closed. Heavy breaths filled the room. “Please tell me you packed the bottle of lube,” Cas panted, deep and gravelly.

Fevered kisses with tongues and even teeth.

And once again, Cas was a vision above him, only this time, with eyes closed, head hung back and hands stretched behind him to grasp Dean’s knees. He was grinding on Dean’s cock, rolling his hips and moaning in what Dean was positive was Latin this time. He had found the perfect angle to put Dean’s cock right against that amazing spot inside and was now probably saying some very dirty things in a language usually reserved for prayer.

Dean stroked him in long, lazy pulls, absolutely mesmerized by the writhing figure on top of him. He waited until Cas looked down to give him an open-mouthed smile through his own panting breaths. Cas tensed and started clenching around Dean’s dick. “Show me, sweetheart,” Dean whispered. Cas seized up and silently offered his face to the ceiling, eyes closed, mouth open, painting Dean’s chest in white.

“Yes!” Dean whispered, “Oh fuck, yes!” and then he was arching and coming and it was glorious.

A shower and soft kisses along bared necks.

The promise of a future and a home.

\------------------------------------

“Homemade pecan pie and ice cream. Perfect way to end a Thanksgiving dinner, don’t you think dear?” Jody’s mother set the pie on the table and looked at her husband with a smile. Behind her, Sam had a stack of small plates and forks. They had finished a fantastic meal two hours before, complete with turkey, homemade mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, freshly baked rolls and yes, candied yams with marshmallows.

The group had returned to the table for dessert and coffee, when suddenly the dining room light switched off and Jody walked in singing, holding a birthday cake ablaze with candles. Everyone joined in, with a few heads swiveling to try and figure out who the guest of honor was. Under the table, Dean gave Cas’ leg a squeeze.

“So you may not know this, but my man Cas’ birthday is today,” Dean announced, standing. “I think that it’s very fitting, as I for one am very thankful that he’s around.”

“Here, here,” Sam called out from the back of the room, leaning against the far wall. Jody stood next to him, slipping an arm around his waist.

Cas grinned up at Dean, blue eyes twinkling.

“How old are you, Cas?” Shelly asked.

All eyes turned. “How many candles did you put on the cake?” Cas asked Dean.

“Well Dean told us to put all the candles we could find on there,” Josh admitted.

“There’s 38 candles,” Dean said.

“Perfect,” Cas replied. “I am 38 years old.”

“I already gave Cas his present last night,” Dean said, staring down his brother, who had rolled his eyes. “However, I do have a gift to give to someone else.” He reached in his pocket and tossed a key across the room. Sam caught it in one hand.

Now folks twisted in their seats to see Sam’s reaction. He opened his big hand, jaw dropping slightly as he realized what he was holding. “Dean…”

“Nope, there’s no ‘Dean’ this time. I want you to have it.”

Sam shook his head, smiling. “Dude, the Chevelle?”

“Well you’re going to need your own wheels,” Dean offered. Sam furled his brow. “And I know that Bobby would be very pleased to hear that you were driving his car,” Dean added, winking at Cas.

Jody gave Sam a squeeze.

“Thank you, Dean,” Sam said. His voice held a little tremor of emotion as he thought about the key in his hand, his brother’s long hours and hard work, and Bobby’s blessing.

“That car is cool, man,” Josh blurted out.

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed. “Hey, you want to take a spin?”

“Hel – I mean yes, please,” Josh replied through an elbow jab from his mother.

“Let’s go.”

[](http://www.desitattoos.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Source for angel art: http://www.desitattoos.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Angel-Tattoos-Flash-33.jpg


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